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FROM    THE   LIBRARY   OF 


REV.    LOUIS    FITZGERALD    BENSON,   D.  D. 


BEQUEATHED    BY    HIM   TO 


THE    LIBRARY   OF 


PRINCETON   THEOLOGICAL   SEMINARY 


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TRANSLATED  FROM  THE  FRE^fe//  Qmt  »  i 


MADAME  DE  LA  MO  THE  GUIOAr, 

BY   THE   LATE 

WILLIAM  COWPER,    Escfc 

AUTHOR    OF    THE    TASK, 


TO  WHICH  ARE   ADDED 

SOME  ORIGINAL  POEMS 

OF  MR.   COWPER) 
XOT   INSERTED   IN   HIS  WORKS. 


PHILADELPHIA: 

PRINTED  AND   SOLD  BY  KIMBER,   CONRAD,  8c  CO, 
NO.   170,   SOUTH   SECOND   STREE  I 


THE  REV.  WILLIAM  BULL, 

THESE    TRANSLATIONS 
OF   A   FEW  OF   THE 

SPIRITUAL  SONGS 

OF  THE  EXCELLENT 

MADAME  GUION, 

MADE   At  HIS  EXPRESS  DESIRE, 

ARE   DEDICATED, 
BY  HIS 
AFFECTIONATE    FRIEND 
AND  SERVANT, 

WILLIAM  COWPER. 
July,  1782. 


PREFACE. 


cco«coo3eoooecooeooocoooooo5eofto 


IT  seems  needless,  if  not  impertinent,  in  an 
obscure  individual,  to  say  any  thing"  in  praise  of  the 
Author  of  the  Task.  It  is  of  more  consequence  to  in- 
form the  reader  of  the  circumstances  that  have  led  to 
this  publication.  About  twenty  years  ago  a  very  dear 
and  venerable  friend*  introduced  me  to  the  truly  great 
and  amiable  Mr.  Cowper.  This  gave  rise  to  a  friend- 
skip  which  increased  with  every  repeated  interview, 
and  for  several  years  I  had  the  pleasure  of  spending1 
an  afternoon  with  him  every  week.  At  length  this  de- 
lightful intercourse  was  terminated,  by  his  removal  to 
a  distant  situation,  and  the  painful  approaches  of  that 
event  which  dissolves  every  social  connexion. 

*  The   Reverend  John  Newton,  Rector  of  St.   Mary, 

Wooinotti,  London. 

A  2 


PREFACE. 


g  myself  with  the  poetical  works  of 
i  Madame  Guion,  I  was  struck  with  the 
iauty  of  some  of  her  poems,  as  well  as  edifi- 
the   piety   and  devotion   of  which  they   are 
\:,ly  expressive.     I  mentioned  them  to  Mr.  C  ;  and 
partly  to  amuse  a  solitary  hour,  partly  to  keep  in  exer- 
cise the  g-enius  of  this  incomparable  man,  I  requested 
him  to  put  a  few  of  the  poems  into  an  English  dress. 
ward,  during-  my  absence  upon  a  journey,  I  re- 
ceived a  letter,  in  which  Mr.  C.  says,  "  I  have  but  lit- 
tle leisure,  strange  as  it  may  seem.     That  little  I  de- 
'  far  a  month  after  your  departure  to  the  ttf 
of  Madame  Guion.     I  haver  pies  of  all 

the  pieces  I  have  produced  on  this  last  occasion,  and 

hen  we  me 
to    serve     as    \ 


PREFACE. 

me  with  these  translations,  to    wl 
Letter  to    a    Protestant  Lady    in  Fra , 
Poem  on  Friendship. 

The  idea  of  printing'  them  was  afterwai  i 
gestedto  Mr.  C.  and  he  gave  his  full  consent,  intend 
ing*  to  revise  them  before  I  should  send  them  to  press. 
Various  circumstances  prevented  him  from  doing"  this  ; 
and  the  poems  would  probably  have  still  remained  un- 
published, if  it  had  not  been  found  that  several  copies 
of  them  had  already  got  abroad.  The  Editor  there- 
fore had  reason  to  believe,  that  they  would  otherwise 
have  made  their  appearance  in  a  state  far  less  correct 
than  if  printed  from  the  original  Manuscript.  Nor  can 
he  imagine  that  even  in  their  present  form,  they  will, 
en  the  whole,  tend  to  diminish  the  well-deserved  repu- 
tation of  their  excellent  Author. 

To  infer  that  the  peculiarities  of  Madame  Guion's 
theological  sentiments,  wer<  \t  C 


Vlii  PREFACE. 

or  by  the  Editor,  would  be  almost  as  absurd  as  to  sup- 
pose the  illimitable  Translator  of  Homer  to  have  been 
a  pagan.  He  reverenced  her  piety,  admired  her  genius, 
and  judged  that  several  of  her  poems  would  be  read 
with  pleasure  and  edification  by  serious  and  candid 
persons. 

I  have  taken  the  liberty  to  add  the  Stanzas  sub- 
joined to  the  Bills  of  Mortality,  which  had  been  pub- 
lished a  few  years  past  at  Northampton  ;  and  the 
Epitaph,  which  had  appeared  in  a  periodical  publica- 
tion. They  sufficiently  mark  the  genius  of  their  Au- 
thor, correspond  with  the  other  parts  of  this  small  vol- 
ume, and  have  not  before  been  printed  in  a  uniform 
manner  with  his  poems, 

WILLIAM  &ULL. 

PORT-PAGNEL, 

Mi  June,  1301. 


11 


NATIVITY. 

— *^*<^» — 

POEME  HEROIQUE, 

Vol.  4.  §  4. 

— «€5*^» — 

'TIS  Folly  all— let  me  no  more  be  told 
Of  Parian  porticos,  and  roofs  of  gold  ; 
Delightful  views  of  Nature  dress'd  by  Art, 
Enchant  no  longer  this  indiff  'rent  heart ; 
The  Lord  of  all  tilings,  in  his  humble  birth, 
Makes  mean  the  proud  magnificence  of  earth  ; 
The  straw,  the  manger,  and  the  mould'ring  wall, 
Eclipse  its  lustre  ;  and  I  scorn  it  all. 

Canals,  and  fountains,  and  delicious  vales, 
Green  slopes,  and  plains  whose  plenty  never  fails  ; 
Deep  rooted  groves,  whose  heads  sublimely  rise, 
Earth-born,  and  yet  ambitious  of  the  skies  ; 
Th'  abundant  foliage  of  whose  gloomy  shades, 
Vainly  the  sun  in  all  its  pov.'r  ini  ades  ; 
Where  warbled  airs  of  sprightly  birds  resound  ; 
Whose  verdure  lives  while  winter  scowls  around 
Rocks,  lofty  mountains,  caverns  dark  and  deep, 
And  torrents  raving  down  the  nigged  steep  j 


12  THE    NATIVITY. 

Smooth  downs,  whose  fragrant  herbs  the  spirits  cheer, 
Meads,  crow  n\l  with  flow  Vs  ;  streams  musical  and  clear, 
Whose  silver  waters,  and  whose  murmurs,  join 
Their  artless  charms,  to  make  the  scene  divine  j 
The  fruitful  vineyard,  and  the  furrow  M  plain, 
Tli at  seems  a  rolling'  sea  of  golden  grain  ; 
All,  all  have  lost  the  charms  they  once  possess'd ; 
An  infant  God  reigns  sovereign  in  my  breast ; 
From  Beth  Tern's  bosom  I  no  more  will  rove  ; 
There  dwells  the  Saviour,  and  there  rests  my  love. 

Ye  mightier  rivers,  that  with  sounding  force 
Urge  down  the  valleys  your  impetuous  course  ! 
Winds,  clouds,  and  lightnings!  and  ye  waves,  whose  heads 
CurJ'd  into  monstrous  forms,  the  seaman  dreads  ! 
Horrid  abyss,  where  all  experience  fails, 
Spread  with  the  wreck  of  planks  and  shattcr'd  sails  ; 
On  whose  broad  back  grim  Death  triumphant  rides, 
Wlule  havoc  floats  on  all  thy  swelling  tides, 
Thy  shores  a  scene  of  ruin,  strew  \\  around 
With  vessels  bulg'd,  and  bodies  of  thedrown'd  ! 

Ye  Fish,  that  sport  beneath  the  boundless  waves, 
And  rest,  secure  from  man,  in  rocky  caves  ; 
Swift  darting  sharks,  and  whales  of  hideous  si/e, 
Whom  all  tlT  aquatic  world  with  terror  eyes  ! 
Had  I  but  Faith  immoveable  and  true, 
I  might  def\  the  fiercest  storm,  like  \<,n  - 
The  world,  a  more  disturbed  and  boistfrous  sea. 

When  Jesus  shows  a  smile,  affrights  not  me  i 


TIIE  NATIVITY.  13 

He  hides  mc,  and  in  vain  the  billows  roar, 
Break  harmless  at  my  feet,  and  leave  the  shore. 

Thou  azure  vault,  where,  through  the  gloom  of  night, 
Thick  sown,  we  see  such  countless  worlds  of  light  1 
Thou  Moon,  whose  car,  encompassing  the  skies, 
Restores  lost  nature  to  our  wondring  eyes  ; 
Again  retiring,  when  the  brighter  Sun 
Begins  the  course  he  seems  in  haste  to  run  ! 
Behold  him  where  he  shines  !  His  rapid  rays, 
Themselves  unmeasur'd,  measure  all  our  days ; 
Nothing  impedes  the  race  he  would  piusue, 
Nothing  escapes  his  penetrating  vi<  v., 
A  thousand  lands  confess  his  quick'ning  heat, 
And  all  he  cheers,  are  fruitful,  fair,  and  sweet. 

Far  from  enjoying  what  these  scenes  disclose, 
I  feel  the  thorn,  alas  !  but  miss  the  rose  : 
Too  well  I  know  this  aching  heart  requires 
More  solid  good  to  fill  its  vast  desires  ; 
In  vain  they  represent  His  matchless  might 
Who  call'cl  thetn  out  of  deep  primaeval  night ; 
Their  form  and  beauty  but  augment  my  woe  : 
I  seek  the  Giver  of  the  charms  they  show  ; 
Nor,  Him  beside,  throughout  the  world  he  made, 
Lives  there,  in  whom  I  trust  for  cure  or  aid. 

Infinite  God,  thou  great  unrivall'd  One, 
Wl  )se  glory  makes  a  blot  of  yonder  sun  ; 


14  THE   NATIVITY. 

Compar'd  with  thine,  how  dim  his  beauty  seems, 

How  quench'd  the  radiance  of  his  golden  beams  ! 

Thou  art  my  bliss,  the  light  by  which  I  move  ; 

In  thee  alone  dwells  all  that  I  can  love  ; 

All  darkness  flies  when  thou  art  pleas'd  t'  appear, 

A  sudden  spring  renews  the  fading*  year  ; 

Where  e'er  I  turn,  I  sec  thy  power  and  grace 

The  watchful  guardians  of  our  heedless  race  ; 

Thy  various  creatures  in  one  strain  agree, 

All,  in  all  times  and  places,  speak  of  thee  ; 

Ev'n  I,  with  trembling  heart  and  stammering  tongue, 

Attempt  thy  praise,  and  join  the  gen'ral  song. 

Almighty  Former  of  this  wondrous  plan, 
Faintly  reflected  in  thine  image,  man.... 
Hoi}'  and  just — the  Greatness  of  whose  name 
Fills  and  supports  this  universal  frame, 
DifFns'd  throughout  th'  infinitude  of  space, 
Who  art  thyself  thine  own  vast  dwelling-place  ; 
Soul  of  our  soul,  whom  yet  no  sense  of  ours 
Discerns,  eluding  our  most  active  pow'rs  ; 
Encircling  shades  attend  thine  awful  throne, 
That  veil  thy  face,  and  keep  thee  still  unknown; 
Unknown,  though  dwelling  in  our  inmost  part, 
Lord  of  the  thoughts,  and  Sov'reign  of  the  heart! 

R<  |  eat  the  charming  truth  that  never  tires, 
No  God  is  like  the  God  my  soul  desires  j 
He  at  whose  voice  heav'n  trembles,  even  Hef 

Great  a*  he  is,  know*  how  to  *toop  to  me.... 


THE   NATIVITY.  15 

Lo  \  there  lie  lies.... that  smiling*  Infant  said, 

•<  Heav'n,  Earth,  and  Sea,  exist '."  and  they  obey'd. 

Ev'n  He  whose  Being  swells  beyond  the  skies, 

Is  born  of  woman,  lives,  and  mourns,  and  dies  ; 

Eternal  and  Immortal,  seems  to  cast 

That  glory  from  his  brows,  and  breathes  his  last. 

Trivial  and  vain  the  works  that  man  lias  wrought, 

How  do  they  shrink,  and  vanish  at  the  thought ! 

Sweet  Solitude,  and  scene  of  my  repose  ! 

This  rustic  sight  assuages  all  my  woes 

That  crib  contains  the  Lord  whom  I  adore  ; 
And  Earth's  a  shade,  that  I  pursue  no  more. 
He  is  my  firm  support,  my  rock,  my  tow'r, 
I  dwell  secure  beneath  his  shclt'ring  pow'r, 
And  hold  this  mean  retreat  for  ever  dear, 
For  all  I  love,  my  soul's  delight  is  here. 
I  see  th'  Almighty  swath'd  in  infant  bands, 
Tied  helpless  down,  the  Thunder-bearer's  hands  ! 
And  in  this  shed,  that  mystery  discern, 
Which  faith  and  love,  and  they  alone,  can  learn. 

Ye  tempests,  spare  the  slumbers  of  your  Lord  ! 
Ye  zephyrs,  all  your  whisperM  sweets  ai 
Confess  the  God  that  guides  the  rolling; 
Heav'n,  do  him  homage  ;  and  thou  Earth,  revere  ! 
Ye  Shepherds,  Monarchs,  Sages,  hither  bring 
Your  hearts  an  off         ,  ■  ■   . .' 

Pure  b*  its,  and  rich  in  Faith  and  Love  ; 

Join,  in  hit        ...  ,  worlds  above; 

n 


16 


THE   NA  TIVT'l  V. 


To  Bethl'cm  haste,  rejoice  in  his  repose, 

And  praise  him  there  for  all  that  he  bestows  ! 

Man,  busy  Man,  alas  !  can  ill  afford 
T'  obey  the  summons,  and  attend  the  Lord; 
Perverted  reason  revels  and  runs  wild, 
By  glittering  shows  of  pomp  and  wealth  beguil'd  ; 
And  blind  to  genuine  excellence  and  grace, 
Finds  not  her  Author  in  so  mean  a  place. 
Ye  unbelieving  !  learn  a  wiser  part, 
Distrust  your  erring  sense,  and  search  your  heart; 
There,  soon  \e  shall  perceive  a  kindling  flame 
Glow  for  that  Infant  God  from  whom  it  came  ; 
Resist  not,  quench  not  that  divine  desire, 
Melt  all  your  adamant  in  heavVilv  fire  '. 

Not  so  will  I  requite  thee,  gentle  Love  ! 
Yielding"  and  soft  this  heart  shall  ever  prove  ; 
And  ev'ry  heart,  beneath  thy  pow'r  should  fall, 
Glad  to  submit,  could  mine  contain  them  all. 
But  I  am  poor,  oblation  I  have  none, 
None  for  a  Saviour,  but  Himself  alone  : 
Whate'er  I  render  thee,  ivr:>\  thee  it  came  ; 
And  if  I  give  my  body  to  the  Hame, 
My  patience,  love,  and  en<  rgj  divine 

.1  and  Soul  and  Spirit,  ail  arc  thine. 
Ah  vain  attempt,  t'  <  xpunge  the  mighty  score  \ 
'1 ;  i  •..'  «  I  pa;  ,1  .  •  still  the  more. 


THE   NATIVITY.  17 

Upon  my  meanness,  poverty,  and  guilt, 
The  trophy  of  thy  glory  shall  be  built ; 
My  self-disdain  shall  be  th'  unshaken  base, 
And  my  deformity,  its  fairest  grace  ; 
For  destitute  of  Good  and  rich  in  111, 
Must  be  my  slate  and  my  description  still. 

And  do  I  grieve  at  such  a  humbling  lot? 
Nay,  but  I  cherish  and  enjoy  the  thought — > 
Vain  pageantry  and  pomp  of  Earth,  adieu  ! 
I  have  no  wish,  no  memory  for  you  ; 
The  more  I  feel  my  mis'ry,  I  adore 
The  sacred  Inmate  of  my  soul  the  more  ; 
Rich  in  his  Love,  I  feel  my  noblest  pride 
Spring"  from  the  sense  of  having  nought  beside. 

In  Thee  I  find  wealth,  comfort,  virtue,  might ; 
My  wand'rings  prove  thy  wisdom  infinite  ; 
All  that  I  have,  I  give  thee  ;  and  then  see 
All  contrarieties  unite  in  thee  ; 
For  thou  hast  join'd  them,  taking  up  our  woe, 
And  pouring  out  thy  bliss  on  worms  below, 
By  filling  with  thy  grace  and  love  divine 
A  gulph  of  evil  in  this  heart  of  mine. 
This  is  indeed  to  bid  the  valleys  rise, 
And  the  hills  sink — 'tis  matching  earth  and  skies  ! 
I  feel  my  weakness,  thank  thee,  and  deplore 
An  aching"  heart  that  throbs  to  thank  dice  more  ; 


18  COD  NEITHER    KNOW* 

The  more  I  love  thee,  I  the  more  reprove 
A  soul  so  lifeless,  and  so  slow  to  love  ; 
Till,  on  a  deluge  of  thy  mercy  toss'd, 
I  plunge  into  that  sea,  and  there  am  lost. 

i#{i^»)frl»i~ 

GOD  NEITHER  KNOWN  NOR  LOVEB 
BY  THE  WORLD. 

xxxxx 
Vol.  2.  Cantique  11. 

XXXXX 

YE  Linnets,  let  us  try,  beneath  this  prove, 
Which  shall  be  loudest  in  our  Maker's  praise  ! 
In  quest  of  some  forlorn  retreat  I  rove, 
For  all  the  world  is  blind,  and  wanders  from  his  wavi. 

That  God  alone  should  prop  the  sinking  soul. 
Fills  them  with  rag  bis  empire  now; 

I  traverse  earth  in  vain  from  pole  to  pole, 
To  seek  one  simple  heart,  set  ftee  from  all  below. 

They  speak  of  Love,  yet  little  feel  its  sway, 
While  in  their  1>  an  idol  lurks  ; 

Their  base  desires  *  eU  >bey, 

the  Creator's  hand,  and  lean  upon  his  works. 

'Tis  therefore  1  ear.  dwell  with  man  no  more  ; 

Your  ellowahipi  ;  !  suits  me  best: 


NOR   LOVED  BY  THE    WORLD.  19 

Pure  Love  has  lost  its  price,  though  priz'd  of  yore, 
Profan'd  by  modern  tongues,  and  slighted  as  a  jest. 

My  God,  who  form'd  you  for  his  praise  alone, 
Beholds  his  purpose  well  fulfill'd  in  you  ; 
Come,  let  us  join  the  Choir  before  his  throne, 
Partaking  in  his  praise  with  spirits  just  and  true! 

Yes,  I  will  always  love  ;  and,  as  I  ought, 
Tune  to  the  praise  of  Love  my  ceaseless  voice  ; 
Preferring"  Love  too  vast  for  human  thought, 
In  spite  of  erring  men,  who  cavil  at  my  choice. 

Why  have  I  not  a  thousand  thousand  lie  arts, 
Lord  of  my  soul !  that  they  might  all  be  thine  I 
If  thou  approve.... the  zeal  thy  smile  imparts, 
How  should  it  ever  fail !  Can  such  afire  decline  ? 

Love,  pure  and  holy,  is  a  deathless  fire  ; 

Its  object  heav'nly,  it  must  ever  blaze  : 

Eternal  Love,  a  God  must  needs  inspire, 

When  once  he  wins  the  heart  and  fits  it  for  his  praise. 

Self-love  dismissal.... 'tis  then  we  live  indeed.... 
In  Her  embrace,  death,  only  death  is  found  : 
Come  then,  one  noble  effort,  and  succeed, 

off  the  chain  of  Self  with  which  thy  soul  is  bound! 

Oh  !  I  would  cry  that  all  the  world  might  hear, 
Ye  self-tormentors,  love  your  God  alone  ; 
Let  his  unequall'd  Excellence  be  dear, 

to  a  our  inmost  souls,  and  make  him  all  your  own  ! 

B  2 


20  THE    SWALLOW. 

They  hear  me  not — alas  !  how  fond  to  rove 

In  endless  chase  of  Folly's  specious  lure  ! 

'Tis  here  alone,  beneath  this  shady  grove, 

I  taste  the  sweets  of  Truth — here  on!;,  am  secure. 

THE  SWALLOW. 

1 1 1 1 1 1  it' 

Vol.  2.  Cantiqut  54. 


I  AM  fond  of  the  Swallow — I  learn  from  her  flight, 
Hud  I  skill  to  improve  it,  a  lesson  of  Love  : 
How  seldom  on  Earth  do  we  see  her  alight ! 
She  dwells  in  the  sides,  she  is  ever  above. 

It  is  on  the  wing  that  she  takes  her  repose. 
Suspended,  and  poisM  in  the  regions  of  air, 
'Tis  not  in  our  fields  that  her  sustenance  grows, 
It  is  wingM  like  herself,  'tis  ethereal  fare. 

She  comes  in  the  Spring*,  all  the  Summer  she  stays, 
And  dreading  the  cold,  still  fo  sun.... 

So,  true  to  <  ays, 

And  the  place  where  he  shi  shun. 

Ourli  I  ore,  and  our  nourishment  prayV  s 

I 

•arc, 

.   •     • 


THE  TRIUMPH,     &C  21 

Til  rarely,  if  ever,  she  settles  below, 
And  only  when  building-  a  nest  for  her  young ; 
Were  it  not  for  her  brood,  she  would  never  bestow 
A  thought  upon  any  tiling-  filthy  as  dung*. 

Let  us  leave  it  ourselves  ('tis  a  mortal  abode) 
To  bask  ev'ry  moment  in  infinite  Love  ; 
Let  us  fly  the  dark  winter,  and  follow  the  road 
That  leads  to  the  day-spring  appearing  above. 


TRIUMPH  OF  HEAVENLY  LOVE  DESIRED. 

Vol.  2.  Cant'ume  236. 
— <£>*c4g* — 

All  !  reign,  wherever  Man  is  found, 
My  Spouse,  beloved  and  divine  1 

i  I  am  rich,  and  I  abound, 
V/hen  ev'ry  human  heart  is  thine. 

A  thousand  sorrows  piece  my  soul, 
To  tl  all  are  not  thine  owl 

I -M  from  pole  to  polo  ; 
thy  zeal  ?  arise  :  be  known ! 


2C  THE    SOUL  BROUGHT    TO 

All  hearts  are  cold,  in  ev'ry  place, 

Yet  earthly  good  w  ith  warmth  pursue  ; 

Dissolve  them  with  a  flash  of  grace, 
Thaw  these  of  ice,  and  give  us  new  f. 

A  FIGURATIVE  DESCRIPTION 

OF   THE 

PROCEDURE  OF  DIVINE  LOVE 

In  bringing*  a  Soul  to  the  point  of  self-renunciation 
and  absolute  acquiescence. 

<:••$'■  •■'$'•:> 

Vol.  2.  Cantique  110. 
<:■>£:■»£■:> 

TWAS  my  purpose,  on  a  day, 
To  embark,  and  sail  away  j 
As  I  climb'd  the  vessel's  side, 
Love  was  sporting"  in  the  tide  ; 
"Come,"  he  said...." ascend... .make  haste, 
Launch  into  the  boundless  waste. " 

Man}-  mariners  were  there, 
Having  <.  ach  1.  care  ; 

They  that  row  \\  OS,  hi  I 

Fixt  upon  the  starry  skies  ; 


SELF-RENUNCIATION.  23 


Others  steer'd,  or  turn'd  tlic  sails 
To  receive  the  shifting  gales. 

Love,  with  pow'r  divine  supply'd, 
Suddenly  my  courage  trv'd  ; 
In  a  moment  it  was  night  ; 
Ship,  and  skies,  were  out  of  sight ; 
On  the  briny  wave  I  lay  ; 
Floating  rushes  all  my  stay. 

Did  I  with  resentment  burn 

At  this  unexpected  turn  I 

Did  I  wish  myself  on  shore, 

Never  to  forsake  it  more  ? 

No...."  my  soul,"  I  cried,  "  be  itiU  ; 

If  I  must  be  lost,  I  will." 

Next,  he  hasten' d  to  convey 
Both  my  frail  supports  away  ; 
Seiz'd  my  rushes   ;  bade  the  waves 
Yawn  into  a  thousand  graves  : 
Down  I  went,  and  sunk  as  lead, 
Ocean  closing  o'er  my  head. 

Still,  however,  life  was  safe  5 

And  I  saw  him  turn  and  laugh  : 

"  Friend,"  lie  cried,  «  adieu !  lie  low, 

While  the  wintry  storms  shall  blow  ; 

When  the  spring  has  calm'd  the  main, 

You  shall  rise  and  float  again." 


24  THE  SOUL  BROUGHT   TO 

Soon  I  saw  him,  with  dismay, 
Spread  his  plumes,  and  soar  away  ; 
Now  I  mark  his  rapid  flight ; 
Now  he  leaves  my  aching  sight  ; 

He  is  gone  whom  I  adore, 
'Tis  in  vain  to  seek  him  more. 

How  I  trembl'd  then,  and  fear'd 
When  my  Love  had  disappeared  ! 
«  Wilt  thou  leave  me  thus,"  I  cried, 
"  Whelm'd  beneath  the  rolling"  tide  :" 
Vain  attempt  to  reach  his  ear  ! 
Love  was  gone,  and  would  not  hear. 

Ah  !  return,  and  love  me  still ; 

See  me  subject  to  thy  will ; 

Frown  with  wrath,  or  smile  with  grace, 

Only  let  me  see  thy  face  ! 

Evil  I  have  none  to  fear, 

All  is  good  if  thou  art  near. 

Yet  he  leaves  me.... cruel  fate  ! 
Leaves  me  in  my  lost  estate... 
Have  I  sinnM  !  O  say  wherein  ; 
Tell  me,  and  forgive  my  sin  ! 
King,  and  Lord,  whom  I  adore, 
Shall  I  see  thy  face  no  more  [ 

Be  not  angry  ;  I  resign, 

Henceforth,  all  my  Will  to  thine  ; 


SELF-RENUNCIATION".  25 

I  consent  that  thou  depart, 

Though  thine  absence  breaks  my  lie  art ; 

Go  tii en,  and  for  ever  too  ; 

All  is  right  that  thou  wilt  do. 

TI  is  was  just  what  Love  intended, 

He  was  now  no  I  dc  d  ; 

Soon  as  I  became  a  child, 

Love  return'd  to  me,  and  smii'd  : 

Never  strife  shall  more  be; 

'Twixt  the  Bridegroom  and  his  Bride. 

<^**^»> 

A    CHILD    OF    GOD 
LONGING  TO  SEE  HIM  BELOVED. 

Vol.  2.  Cantique  144. 

THERE'S  not  an  echo  round  me, 

But  I  am  glad  should  learn 
How  pure  a  fire  has  found 

The  Love  with  which  I  burn. 
For  none  attends  with  pleasure 

To  what  I  would  reveal ; 
Thej  ut  of  measure, 

And  laugh  at  all  I 


26  A  CHILD  OF  GOD  LONCI  a* 

The  rocks  receive  less  proudly 

The  story  of  my  flame  ; 
When  I  approach,  they  loudly 

Reverberate  his  name. 
I  speak  to  them  of  sadness, 

And  comforts  at  a  stand  ; 
They  bid  me  look  for  gladb 

And  better  clays  at  hand. 

Far  from  all  habitation, 

I  heard  a  happy  sound  ; 
Big  with  the  conso-.alion 

That  I  have  often  found ; 
I  said,  "  my  lot  is  sorrow, 

My  grief  has  no  alloy  ;" 
The  rocks  replied..."  to-morrow, 

To-morrow  brings  thee  joy.'' 

These  sweet  and  secret  tidings, 

What  bliss  it  is  to  hear  ! 
For,  spite  of  all  my  eluding's, 

My  weakness  and  my  fear, 
No  sooner  I  receive  them, 

Than  I  forget  my  p.  , 
And  happy  to  believe  them, 

I  love  as  much  :. 

I  fly  to  scenes  romantic, 

ere  never  men  resort ; 

•.lie, 
- 


TO   SEE    HIM  BELOVED. 


Tor  riot  and  confusion, 

They  barter  things  above  ;. 

Condemning-,  as  delusion, 
The  joy  of  perfect  Love. 

In  this  sequester'd  corner 

None  hears  what  I  express  *, 
Deliver'd  from  the  scorncr, 

What  peace  do  I  possess  ! 
Beneath  the  boughs  reclining, 

Or  roving  o'er  the  Wild, 
I  live,  as  undesigning, 

And  harmless  as  a  child. 

No  troubles  here  surprise  me, 

I  hmocently  play, 
While  providence  supplies  me, 

And  guards  me  all  the  day  ; 
My  dear  and  kind  defender 

Preserves  me  safely  here, 
From  men  of  pomp  and  splendour, 
0  WTho  fill  a  child  with  fear. 


28 


ASPIRATIONS  OF  THE  SOUL  AFTER  GOD- 


Vol.  2.  Cantiquc  95. 


MY  Spouse  !  in  whose  presence  I  live, 

Sole  object  of  all  my  desires, 
Who  know'st  what  a  flame  I  conceive, 

And  canst  easily  double  its  fires  ; 
How  pleasant  is  all  that  I  meet ! 

From  fear  of  adversity  free, 
I  find  even  sorrow  made  sweet ; 

Because  'tis  assign' d  me  by  Thee. 

Transported  I  see  thee  display 

Thy  riches  and  glory  divine  -, 
I  have  only  my  life  to  repay, 

Take  what  I  would  gladly  resign. 
Thy  will  is  the  treasure  I  seek, 

For  thou  art  as  faithful  as  strong" ; 
There  let  me,  obedient  and  meek, 

Repose  myself  all  the  day  long. 

My  spirit  and  faculties  fail  ; 

Oli  finish  w  hut  Love  has  begun ! 
Destroy  what  is  sinful  and  frail, 

And  dwell  in  the  soul  thou  hast  won  ! 
Dear  theme  of'im  wonder  andpra 

I  cry,  \\  ho  is  worthy  as  Thou ! 


GRATITUDE  AND    LOVE  TO    COB.  29 

I  can  only  be  silent  and  gaze  ; 
'Tis  all  that  is  left  to  me  now. 

Oh  glory,  in  which  I  am  lost, 

Too  deep  for  the  plummet  of  thought ! 
On  an  ocean  of  deity  toss'd, 

I  am  swallow'd,  I  sink  into  nought. 
Yet  lost  and  absorb'd  as  I  seem, 

I  chant  to  the  praise  of  my  King  ; 
And  though  overwhelm'*!  by  the  theme, 

Am  happy  whenever  I  sing. 

«€5*->-< 

GRATITUDE  AND  LOVE  TO  GOD. 

************ 
Vol  2.  Cantiquc  95. 

ALL  are  indebted  much  to  thee, 

But  I  far  more  than  all, 
From  many  a  deadly  snare  set  free, 

Andrais'd  from  many  a  fall. 
Overwhelm  me,  from  above, 
Daily,  with  thy  boundless  Love. 

Whatbonds  of  Gratitude  I  feel, 
No  language  can  declare  \ 


30  GRATITUDE    AKB  LOVE  TO   GOIV 

Beneath  th'  oppressive  weight  I  reel, 

'Tis  more  than  I  can  bear  : 
When  shall  I  that  blessing-  prove. 
To  return  thee  Love  for  Love  ? 

Spirit  of  Charity,  dispense 

Thy  grace  to  ev'ry  heart  ; 
Expel  all  other  Spirits  thence, 

Drive  self  from  every  part  : 
Charity  divine,  draw  nigh, 
Break  the  chains  in  which  we  lie  ! 

All  selfish  souls,  whate'er  they  feign, 

Have  still  a  slavish  lot ; 
They  boast  of  Liberty  in  vain, 

Of  Love,  and  feel  it  not. 
He  whose  bosom  glows  with  Thee, 
He,  and  he  alone,  is  free. 

Oh  blessedness,  all  bliss  above, 

When  thy  pure  fires  prevail ! 
Love  only  teaches  what  is  Love  ; 

All  other  lessons  fail : 
We  learn  its  name,  but  not  its  pow'rs. 
Experience  only  makes  it  ours. 


HAPPY  SOLITUDE. ...UNHAPPY  MEN. 


Vol.  2.  Cantique  89. 


MY  heart  is  easy,  and  my  burden  light ; 

I  smile,  though  sad,  when  thou  art  in  my  sight : 

The  more  my  woes  in  secret  I  deplore, 

I  taste  thy  goodness,  and  I  love,  the  more. 

There,  while  a  solemn  stillness  reigns  around, 
Faith,  Love,  and  Hope,  within  my  soul  abound  ; 
And  while  the  world  suppose  me  lost  in  care, 
The  joys  of  angels,  unperceiv'd,  I  share. 

Thy  creatures  wrong  thee,  Othou  sov'reign  Good! 
Thou  art  ool  lovM,  because  not  understood  ; 
This  grieves  me  mosl .  .ursuits  beguile 

Ungrateful  men,  I 

I  beauty,  and  false  honor,  are  adoiV  ; 
:  Thee  they  scorn,  and  hthywordj 

mcern'd,  a  Saviou 

And  hunt  tiK-ir  ruin,  wi 


C  2 


32 


LIVING  WATER. 


Vol.  4.  Cant i que  81. 


THE  fountain  in  its  source, 
No  drought  of  summer  fears  *, 

The  farther  it  pursues  its  course, 
The  nobler  it  appears. 

But  shallow  cisterns  yield 

A  scanty,  short  supply  ; 
The  morning1  sees  them  amply  nll'd, 

The  ev'ning  finds  them  dry. 


TRUTH  AND  DIVINE  LOVE 

REJECTED  BY  THE  WORLD 

*********** 

Vol.  %  Cmaique  '22 

O  LOVE,  of  pure  and  lica\'nly  birth  ! 
()  simple  Truth,  scarce  known  on  earth! 
Whom  born  will  i 

And  more  perre*  e  an  I  daring  still, 


TRUTH  AND  DIVINE  LOVE,  &C, 

Smother  and  quench,  with  rcas'nings  vain, 
While  error  and  deception  reigii. 

Whence  comes  it,  that,  your  pow'r  the  same 
As  His  on  high,  from  whom  you  came, 
Ye  rarely  find  a  listening  car, 
Or  heart  that  makes  you  welcome  here  ?.... 
Because  ye  bring-  reproach  and  pain, 
Where'er  ye  visit,  in  your  train. 

The  world  is  proud,  and  cannot  bear 
The  scorn  and  calumny  ye  share  ; 
The  praise  of  men,  the  mark  they  mean, 
They  fly  the  place  where  ye  are  seen  ; 
Pure  Love,  with  scandal  in  the  rear, 
Suits  not  the  vain  ;  it  costs  too  dear. 

Then,  let  the  price  be  what  it  may, 
Though  poor,  I  am  prepar'd  to  pay  : 
Come  shame,  come  Borrow  ;  spite  of  tears, 
Weakness,  and  heart-oppressing  fears  ; 
One  soul,  at  last,  shall  not  repine, 
To  g\\Q  you  room,  come,  reign  in  mine  ' 


34 
DIVINE  JUSTICE  AMIABLE. 


Vol.  2.  Cantifut  119. 


THOU  hast  no  lightnings,  Otliou  Just! 

Or  I  their  force  should  know  j 
And  if  thou  strike  me  into  dust, 

My  soul  approves  the  blow. 

The  heart,  that  values  less  its  ease , 

Than  it  adores  thy  ways  ; 
In  thine  avenging  anger,  sees 

A  subject  of  its  praise. 

Pleas'd,  I  could  lie  conceal'd,  and  lost 

In  shades  of  central  night ; 
Not  to  avoid  thy  wrath,  thou  know'&t, 

But  lest  I  grieve  thy  sight. 

Smite  me,  O  thou  whom  I  provok 

And  1  will  love  | 
The  \  i 
Shall  |  ' 

A ii»  I  not  worthj  - 

!' 

\nd  dare  1 1 


•IVIXE  JUSTICE  AMIABLE. 

Far  from  afflicting,  thou  art  kind  ; 

And  in  my  saddest  hours, 
An  unction  of  thy  grace  I  find, 

Pervading  all  my  pow'rs. 

Alas  !  thou  sparest  me  yet  again  ; 

And  when  thy  wrath  should  move, 
Too  gentle  to  endure  my  pain, 

Thou  sooth'st  me  with  thy  Love. 

I  have  no  punishment  to  fear  ; 

But  ah  !  that  smile  from  thee, 
Imparts  a  pang-,  far  more  severe 

Than  woe  itself  would  be. 


THE  SOUL  THAT  LOVES  GOD 

FINDS  HIM  EVERY  WHERE. 

Vol.  2.    Cantique  108. 

OH  thou,  by  long-  experience  tried, 
Near  whom  no  grief  can  long  abide  ; 
My  Love  !  how  full  of  sweet  content 
I  pass  my  years  of  banishment ! 


i)  THI    50LL    THAI     L0VE3    COD,  SvC 

All  scenes  alike  engaging  prove, 
To  souls  irapress'd  with  sacred  love  ; 
Where'er  they  dwell,  they  dwell  in  thee  ; 
In  heav'n,  in  eartli,  or  on  the  sea. 

To  me  remains  nor  place  nor  time  ; 
My  country  is  in  ev'ry  clime  ; 
1  can  be  calm  and  free  from  care 
On  any  shore,  since  God  is  there. 

While  place  we  seek,  or  place  w~e  shun, 
The  soul  finds  happiness  in  none  ; 
But  with  a  God  to  guide  our  way, 
'Tis  equal  joy  to  go  or  stay. 

Could  I  be  cast  w  here  thou  art  not, 
That  were  indeed  a  dreadful  lot ; 
But  regions  none  remote  I  call, 
Secure  of  finding  God  in  all. 

My  country,  Lord,  art  thou  alone  ; 
Nor  other  can  I  claim  or  own  ; 
The  point  where  all  my  wishes  meet  ; 
My  Law,  my  Love  \  life's  only  sweet ! 

I  holdbj  nothing  here  below  ; 
Appoint  mj  journey,  and  I  go; 

j1  by  pride, 

1  feel  thee  good — feel  nought  beside. 


1  HE  TESTIMONY  OF  DIVINE  ADCP  I 

No  frowns  of  men  can  hurtful  prove 
To  souls  on  fire  with  heav'nly  love  ; 
Though  men  and  devils  both  condemn, 
Nop!  arise  for  them. 

Ah  then  !  to  liis  embrace  repa 
My  soul,  thon  art  no  stranger  tli*  • 
There  Love  divine  shall  be  thy  guards 

\nd  peace  and  safety  thy  reward. 

«^>*<^> 

THE  TESTIMONY  OF 

DIVINE  ADOPTION. 


Vol.  2.  Cantique  78. 


>IOW  happy  are  the  new-born  race, 
Partakers  of  adopting"  grace  ! 

How  pure  the  bliss  they  share  ! 
Hid  from  the  world  and  all  its  eyes, 
Within  their  heart  the  blessing  lies. 

And  Conscience  feels  it  there. 

The  moment  we  believe,  'tis  ours  ; 

And  if  we  love  with  all  OUT  pow'rs 

The  God  from  whom  it  came, 


35  THE    TESTIMONY    OF   DIVINE  ADOPTION 

And  if  we  serve  with  hearts  sincere, 
'Tis  still  discernible  and  clear, 
An  undisputed  claim. 

But  ah  !  if  foul  and  wilful  sin 
Stain  and  dishonor  us  within, 

Farewell  the  joy  we  knew  ; 
Again  the  slaves  of  Nature's  sv. \r  , 
In  labyrinths  of  our  own  we  stray, 

Without  a  guide  or  clue. 

The  chaste  and  pure,  who  fear  to  grieve 
The  gracious  Spirit  they  receive, 

His  work  distinctly  trace  ; 
And  strong  in  undissembling  love, 
Boldly  assert,  and  clearly  prove, 

Their  hearts  his  dwelling1  place. 

Oh  messenger  of  dear  delight, 

Whose  voice  dispels  the  deepest  night, 

Sweet  peace-proclaiming  Dove  ! 
With  thee  at  hand  to  sooth  our  pain?, 
No  wish  unsatisfied  remains, 

No  task,  but  that  of  Love. 

'Tis  Love  unites  what  Sin  divides; 
The  c 

To  which  the  soul  once  brouj 
Re  clinin 
1  rom  bis  abounding  a 

K  ace  pass  thought. 


DIVINE   LOVE   ENDURES  NO   RIVAL. 

Sorrow  foregoes  its  nature  there, 
And  life  assumes  a  tranquil  air, 

Divested  of  its  woes  ; 
There,  sov'reign  goodness  sooths  the  breast, 
Till  then,  incapable  of  rest, 

In  sacred  sure  repose. 

DIVINE  LOVE  ENDURES  NO  RIVAL* 

********* 
Vol.  2.  Cantique  155. 

********* 

LOVE  is  the  Lord  whom  I  obey, 
Whose  will  transported  I  perform, 
The  centre  of  my  rest,  my  stay, 
Love  all  in  all  to  me,  myself  a  worm. 

For  uncreated  charms  I  burn, 
Oppress'd  by  slavish  fear  no  more  ; 
For  one,  in  whom  I  may  discern, 
Ev'n  when  he  frowns,  a  sweetness  I  adore. 

He  little  loves  Him,  who  complains, 
And  finds  Him  rigorous  and  severe  ; 
His  heart  is  sordid,  and  he  feigns, 
Though  loud  in  boasting  of  a  sold  sincer«, 
D 


40  DIVINE    LOVE   ENDURES    NO    RIVAL. 

Love  causes  grief,  but  'tis  to  move 
And  stimulate  the  slumb'ring  mind  ; 
And  he  has  never  tasted  Love, 
Who  shuns  a  pang  so  graciously  design'd. 

Sweet  is  the  cross,  above  all  sweets, 
To  souls  enamour'd  with  thy  smiles  ; 
The  keenest  woe  life  ever  meets, 
Love  strips  of  all  its  terrors,  and  beguiles. 

5Tis  just,  that  God  should  not  be  dear, 
Where  self  engrosses  all  the  thought, 
And  groans  and  murmurs  make  it  clear, 
Whatever  else  is  lov'd,  the  Lord  is  net. 

The  love  of  Thee  flows  just  as  much 
As  that  of  ebbing  Self  subsides  ; 
Our  hearts,  their  scantiness  is  such, 
Bear  not  the  conflict  of  two  rival  tides. 

Both  cannot  govern  in  one  soul ; 
Then  let  self-love  be  dispossess'd  ; 
The  Love  of  God  deserves  the  whole, 
And  will  not  dwell  with  sj  despii>'d  a  guest. 


41 
SELF-DIFFIDENCE. 

— •*:•*:*•> 

Vol.  2.  Cantique  125. 
<:*:*:> 

SOURCE  of  love,  and  light  of  day, 
Tear  me  from  myself  away  ; 
Ev'ry  view  and  thought  of  mine, 
Cast  into  the  mould  of  thine  ; 
Teach,  Oh  teach  this  faithless  heart 
A  consistent,  constant  part ; 
Or,  if  it  must  live  to  grow 
More  rebellious,  break  it  now  ! 

Is  it  thus,  that  I  requite 
Grace  and  goodness  infinite  ? 
Ev'ry  trace  of  ev'ry  boon, 
Cancell'd,  and  eras'd,  so  soon  ! 
Can  I  grieve  thee,  whom  I  love  ; 
Thee,  in  whom  I  live  and  move  ? 
If  my  sorrow  touch  thee  still, 
Save  me  from  so  great  an  ill ! 

Oh  !  ti\'  ^oppressive,  irksome  weight* 
Felt  in  an  uncertain  state  ; 
Comfort,  peace,  and  rest,  adieu, 
Should  I  prove  at  last  untrue  ! 
Still  I  chuse  thee,  follow  still 
Ev'ry  notice  of  thy  will ; 


42  THE    ACQUIESCENCE   OF   PURE   LOVE- 

But  unstable,  strangely  weak, 
Still  let  sjip  the  good  I  seek. 

Self-confiding-  wretch,  I  thought, 
I  could  serve  thee  as  I  ought, 
AVin  thee,  and  deserve  to  feel 
All  the  love  thou  canst  reveal ! 
Trusting  self,  a  bruised  reed, 
Is  to  be  deceiv'd  indeed : 
Save  me  from  this  harm  and  loss, 
Lest  my  gold  turn  all  to  dross  ! 

Self  is  earthly.... Faith  alone 
Makes  an  unseen  world  our  own  ; 
Faith  reiinquish'd,  how  we  roam, 
Feel  our  way,  and  leave  our  home  ! 
Spurious  Gems  our  hopes  entice*, 
While  we  scorn  the  pearl  of  price  ; 
And  preferring  servant's  pay, 
Cast  the  children's  bread  away  ! 

«€£**<&» 

THE  ACQUIESCENCE  OF  PURE  LOVE. 

<:-^:^;> 

Vol.  2.  Cantic/uc  135. 
<:^:*£> 

LOVE,  if  thy  destin'd  sacrifice  am  I ; 
Come,  slay  thy  victim,  and  prepare  thy  iircs ; 


REPOSE    IN    GOD.  4 

PlungM  in  thy  depths  of  mercy,  let  me  die 
The  death,  which  ev'ry  soul  that  lives,  desires! 

I  watch  my  hours,  and  see  them  fleet  away  ; 
The  time  is  long",  that  I  have  languish'd  here  ; 
Yet  all  my  thoughts  thy  purposes  obey, 
With  no  reluctance,  cheerful  and  sincere. 

To  me  'tis  equal,  whether  Love  ordain 
My  life  or  death,  appoint  me  pain  or  ease  : 
My  soul  perceives  no  real  111  in  pain  ; 
In  ease,  or  health,  no  real  Good  she  sees. 

One  Good  she  covets,  and  that  Good  alone  ; 
To  chuse  thy  will,  from  selfish  bias  free  ; 
And  to  prefer  a  cottage  to  a  throne, 
And  grief  to  comfort,  if  it  pleases  Thee, 

That  we  should  bear  the  cross,  is  thy  command. 
Die  to  the  world,  and  live  to  self  no  more  ; 
Suffer  unmoved  beneath  the  rudest  hand, 
As  pleas 'd  when  shipwreck'd  as  when  safe  on  shore, 

«€*&»> 

REPOSE  IN  GOD, 

<:4m£.>'— 

Vol.  2.  Ccmtique  17. 
<:-»£^> 

BLEST  !  who  far  from  all  mankind^ 
Tliis  world's  shadows  left  behind, 


4-i  GLORY  TO   GOD  ALONE. 

Hears  from  heay.'n  a  gentle  strain 
WbispYmg  Love,  and  loves  again , 

Blest !   who  free  from  self-esteem, 
Dives  into  the  Great  Supreme, 
All  desire  beside  discards, 
Joys  inferior  none  regards. 

Blest !  who  in  thy  bosom  seeks 
Best  that  nothing  earthly  breaks. 
Dead  to  self  and  worldly  things, 
Lost  in  thee,  thou  King  of  Kings  ! 

Ye  that  know  my  secret  fire, 
.Softly  speak,  and  soon  retire  -7 
favour  my  divine  repose, 
Spare  the  sleep  a  God  bestows. 

— — «{sM^> 

GLORY  TO  GOD  ALONE. 

<:*£-*^:> 

Vol.  2.  Car.tique  15. 
<:,fc*:> 

OH  lov'd  !  but  not  enough....though  dearer  far 
Than  self  and  its  most  Joy.' id  enjoyments  are  ; 

!     tie  duly  loves  thee,  but  who,  nobly  free 
Frcm  sensual  <  I 


GLORY    TO    COD    ALONE. 


45 


Glory  of  God  !  thou  stranger  here  below*, 
Whom  man  nor  knows,  nor  feels  a  wish  to  know; 
Our  Faith  and  Reason  are  both  shock'd  to  find 
Man  in  the  post  of  honour.... Thee  behind. 

Reason  exclaims...."  Let  ev'ry  creature  fall, 
*  Asham'd,  abas'd,  before  the  Lord  of  all ;" 
And  Faith,  o'erwhelm'd  with  such  a  dazzling*  blaze, 
Feebly  describes  the  beauty  she  surveys. 

Yet  man,  dim-sighted  man,  and  rash  as  blind, 
Deaf  to  the  dictates  of  his  better  mind, 
In  frantic  competition  dares  the  skies, 
And  claims  precedence  of  the  Only  Wise. 

Oh  lost  in  vanity  till  once  self-known  ! 
Nothing"  is  great,  or  g-ood,  but  God  alone, 
When  thou  shalt  stand  before  his  awful  face, 
Then,  at  the  last,  thy  pride  shall  know  His  place. 

Glorious,  Almighty,  First,  and  without  end  ! 
When  wilt  thou  melt  the  mountains,  and  descend  ? 
When  wilt  thou  shoot  abroad  thy  conqu'ring"  rays, 
And  teach  these  atoms,  thou  hast  made,  thy  praise  I 

Thy  Glory  is  the  sweetest  heav'n  I  feel ; 
And  if  I  seek  it  with  too  fierce  a  zeal, 
Thy  Love,  triumphant  o'er  a  selfish  will, 
Taught  me  the  passion,  and  inspires  it  still. 


46  SELF-LOVE    ANTJ    TRUTH  INCOMPATIBLE. 

My  Reason,  all  my  faculties,  unite, 
To  make  thy  Glory  their  supreme  delight  ; 
Forbid  it,  Fountain  of  my  brightest  days, 
That  I  should  rob  thee,  and  usurp  thy  praise  ! 

Mo  soul !  rest  happy  in  thy  low  estate, 
Nor  hope,  nor  wish,  to  be  esteem'd  or  great ; 
To  take  th'  impression  of  a  will  divine, 
Be  that  thy  glory,  and  those  riches  thine. 

Confess  Him  righteous  in  his  just  decrees, 
Love  what  he  loves,  and  let  his  pleasure  please  ; 
Die  daily  ;  from  the  touch  of  Sin  recede  ; 
Then  thou  hast  crown'd  lrim,  and  he  reigns  indeed. 

— — •<«Cg>*^»>""— — 
SELF-LOVE  AND  TRUTH  INCOMPATIBLE. 

Vol.  2.  Cantique  21. 

xxxxx 

FROM  thorny  wilds,  a  Monster  came, 
That  fill'd  my  soul  with  fear  and  shame  ; 
The  birds,  forgetful  of  their  mirth, 
Droop'd  at  the  sight,  and  fell  to  earth  ; 
When  thus  a  sage  address'd  mine  car, 
Himself  unconscious  of  a  fear. 

"  Whence  all  this  terror  and  surprise, 
"  Distracted  looks,  and  streaming  eyes  ? 


SELF-LOVE  AXD  TRUTH  INCOMPATIBLE.         4f 

«  Far  from  the  world  and  its  affairs, 

«  The  joy  it  boasts,  the  pain  it  shares, 

M  Surrender,  without  guile  or  art, 

M  To  God,  an  undivided  heart ; 

M  The  savage  form,  so  fear'd  before, 

M  Shall  scare  your  trembling-  soul  no  more  ; 

"  For  loathsome  as  the  sight  may  be, 

"  'Tis  but  the  Love  of  self  you  see. 

"  Fix  all  your  Love  on  God  alone, 

"  Chuse  but  His  will,  and  hate  your  own  ; 

"  No  fear  shall  in  your  path  be  found, 

*'  The  dreary  waste  shall  bloom  around, 

"  And  you,  through  all  your  happy  days, 

"  Shall  bless  his  name,  and  sing  his  praise." 

Oh  lovely  Solitude,  how  sweet, 
The  silence  of  this  calm  retreat ! 
Here  Truth,  the  fair  whom  I  pursue, 
Gives  all  her  beauty  to  my  view  ; 
The  simple,  unadorn'd  display, 
Charms  ev'ry  pain  and  fear  away. 
O  Truth  !  whom  millions  proudly  slight, 
O  Truth  !  my  treasure  and  delight, 
Accept  this  tribute  to  thy  name, 
And  this  poor  heart,  from  which  it  came  • 


48 
THE  LOVE  OF  GOD, 

THE  END  OF  LIFE. 


Vol.  2.  Cantique  165. 

SINCE  life  in  sorrow  must  be  spent* 
So  be  it — I  am  well  content, 
And  meekly  wait  my  last  remove* 
Seeking  only  growth  in  Love. 

No  bliss  I  seek,  but  to  fulfil 
In  life,  in  death,  thy  holy  will ; 
No  succours  in  my  woes  I  want, 
Save  what  thou  art  pleas'd  to  grant. 

Our  days  are  number'd,  let  us  spare 
Our  anxious  hearts  a  needless  care  : 
'Tis  thine,  to  number  out  our  days  ; , 
Ours,  to  give  them  to  thy  praise. 

Love  is  our  only  business  here, 
Love,  simple,  constant,  and  sincere  ; 
O  blessed  davs,  thy  servants  sec  ! 
Spent,  O  Lord,  in  pleasing  Thee. 


49 


LOVE  FAITHFUL  IN  THE  ABSENCE 
OF  THE  BELOVED. 


Vol.  4.  Cantiqiie  49. 


IN  vain  ye  woo  me  to  your  harmless  joys, 
Ye  pleasant  bow'rs,  remote  from  strife  and  noise  ; 
Your  shades,  the  witnesses  of  many  a  vow, 
Breath'd  forth  in  happier  days,  are  irksome  now  ; 
Denied  that  smile  'twas  once  my  heav'n  to  see, 
Such  scenes,  such  pleasures  are  all  past  with  me. 

In  vain  he  leaves  me,  I  shall  love  him  still ; 
And  though  I  mourn,  not  murmur  at  his  will  > 
I    have  no  cause — an  object  all  divine 
Might  well  grow  weary  of  a  soul  like  mine  ; 
Yet  pity  me,  great  God  !  forlorn,  alone, 
Heartless  and  hopeless,  Life  and  Love  all  gone.; 

<«^*>:*:*:«g*» 

LOVE  PURE  AND  FERVENT. 

<:*:*:> 

Vol.  4.  Cantique  31* 
<:*:*:> 

JEALOUS,  and  with  Love  o'crflowing, 
Ggd  demands  a  fervent  heart  -t 


50  THE  ENTIRE  SURERNDER. 

Grace  and  bounty,  still  bestowing-, 
Calls  us  to  a  grateful  part. 

Oh,  then,  with  supreme  affection, 

His  paternal  Will  regard  ! 
If  it  cost  us  some  dejection, 

Ev'ry  sigh  has  its  reward. 

Perfect  Love  has  pow'r  to  soften 
Cares  that  might  our  peace  destroy, 

Nay,  does  more... transforms  them  often, 
Changing1  sorrow  into  joy. 

Sovereign  Love  appoints  the  measure, 
And  the  number  of  our  pains  ; 

And  is  pleas'd  when  we  find  pleasure 
In  the  trials  he  ordains. 

«^*0*^<&» 

THE  ENTIRE  SURRENDER. 

«:4"ff:> 

Vol.  4.  Ca?itique  77. 

<:■>$"£:► 

PEACE  has  unvel'd  her  smiling  face, 
And  woos  thy  soul  to  her  embrace ; 

Enjoy'd  with  ease,  if  thou  refrain 

From  earthly  Love,  else  sought  in  vain  ; 


THE    PERFECT   SACRIFICE. 

She  dwells  with  all  who  Truth  prefer, 
But  seeks  not  them  who  seek  not  Her. 

Yield  to  the  Lord,  with  simple  heart, 
All  that  thou  hast,  and  all  thou  art ; 
Renounce  all  strength  but  strength  divine  ; 
And  peace  shall  be  for  ever  thine  :.... 
Behold  the  path  which  I  have  trod, 
My  path,  'till  I  go  home  to  God. 

«^>*<&» — r- 

THE  PERFECT  SACRIFICE. 

— <«CJ*&> — 
Vol.  4.  Cantique  74. 

— -«€5*^» — 

I  place  an  ofPring  at  thy  shrine, 

From  taint  and  blemish  clear, 
Simple  and  pure  in  its  design, 

Of  all  that  I  hold  dear. 

I  yield  thee  back  thy  gifts  again, 

Thy  gifts  which  most  I  prize  ; 
Desirous  only  to  retain 

The  notice  of  thine  eyes. 

But  if,  by  thine  ador'd  decree, 
That  blessing  be  denied, 
E 


51 


62  GOD   HIDES    HIS   PEOPL*. 

Resign'd,  and  unreluctant,  see, 
My  ev'ry  wish  subside. 

Thy  will  in  all  things  I  approve  j 

Exulted  or  cast  down, 
Thy  will  in  ev'ry  state,  I  love, 

And  even  in  thy  frown. 

«€S*S>» 

GOD  HIDES  HIS  PEOPLE. 

Vol.  4.  Cantique  42. 

**#♦******* 

TO  lay  the  soul  that  loves  him  low, 

Becomes  the  Only-wise  ; 
To  hide  beneath  a  veil  of  woe 

The  children  of  the  skies. 

Man,  though  a  worm,  would  yet  be  great  ; 

Though  feeble,  would  seem  strong  ; 
Assumes  an  independent  state, 

J3y  sacrilege  and  wrong. 

Strange  the  reverse,  which  once  a.ba*\l, 
The  haughtj  creature  proves  ! 

He  feels  his  soul  :i  barren  waste, 
Nor  dares  ailinn,  lie  Lortfi, 


GOD    HIDES    HIS    TEOPLE. 

Scorn'd  by  the  thoughtless  and  the  vain, 

To  God  he  presses  near  j 
Superior  to  the  world's  disdain, 

And  happy  in  it's  sneer. 

Oh  welcome,  in  his  heart  he  says, 

Humility  and  shame  ! 
Farewell  the  wish  for  human  praise, 

The  music  of  a  name  ! 

But  will  not  scandal  mar  the  good 
That  I  might  else  perform  ? 

And  can  God  work  it,  if  he  would, 
By  so  despis'd  a  worm  ? 

Ah  !  vainly  anxious '.....leave  the  Lord 

To  ride  thee,  and  dispose  ; 
Sweet  is  the  mandate  of  his  'word, 

And  gTacious  all  he  does. 

He  draws  from  human  littlenes* 

His  grandeur  and  renown, 
And  gen'rous  hearts  with  joy  confess 

The  triumph  all  his  own. 

Down  then  with  self-exalting*  thought?, 

Thy  faith  and  hope  employ 
To  welcome  all  that  he  allots, 

And  suffer  shame  with  joy. 


54        THE  SECRETS  OF  DIVINE  LOVE 

No  longer,  then,  thou  wilt  encroach 

On  his  eternal  right ; 
And  he  shall  smile  at  thy  approach, 

And  make  thee  his  delight. 


<<^»«g» 


THE  SECRETS  OF  DIVINE  LOVE 

ARE  TO  BE  KEPT. 

Vol.  3.  Cantique  48. 

SUN  !  stay  thy  course,  this  moment  stay.... 
Suspend  th'  o'erflowing  tide  of  day, 
Divulge  not  such  a  Love  as  mine, 
Ah  !  hide  the  mystery  divine, 
Lest  man,  who  deems  my  glory  shame, 
Should  learn  the  secret  of  my  flame. 

Oh  night !  propitious  to  my  views, 
Thy  sable  awning  wide  diffuse  ; 
Conceal  alike  my  joy  and  pain, 
Nor  draw  thy  curtain  back  again, 
Though  morning,  by  the  tears  she  shows, 
Seems  to  participate  my  woes. 

Ye  stars  !  whose  faint,  and  feeble  fires 
Express  my  languishing- desires, 


ARE    TO    BE    KEPT.  55 

Whose  slender  beams  pervade  the  skies 

As  silent  as  my  secret  sighs, 

Those  emanations  of  a  soul 

That  darts  her  fires  beyond  the  Pole  ; 

Your  rays,  that  scarce  assist  the  sight, 
That  pierce,  but  not  displace  the  night. 
That  shine  indeed,  but  nothing  show 
Of  all  those  various  scenes  below, 
Bring  no  disturbance,  rather  prove 
Incentives  of  a  sacred  Love. 

Thou  Moon  !  whose  never-failing  course 

Bespeaks  a  providential  force, 

Go,  tell  the  tidings  of  my  name 

To  Him  who  calls  the  stars  by  name  ; 

Whose  absence  kills,  whose  presence  cheers  ; 

Who  blots,  or  brightens,  all  my  years. 

While,  in  the  blue  abyss  of  space, 
Thine  orb  performs  its  rapid  race  ; 
Still  whisper  in  his  list'ning  ears 
The  language  of  my  sighs  and  tears  ; 
Tell  him,  I  seek  him,  far  below, 
Lost  in  a  wilderness  of  woe. 

Ye  thought-composing,  silent  hours, 
Diffusing  peace  o'er  all  my  pow'rs  ; 

Friends  of  the  pensive  !  who  conceal 

In  darkest  shades,  the  F.s.vriC.  1  feel ; 
E  2 


56  THE  SECRETS  OF  DIVINE  LOVE 

To  you  I  trust,  and  safely  may, 

The  Love  that  wastes  my  strength  away. 

In  sylvan  scenes,  and  caverns  rude, 
Itastethe  sweets  of  solitude  ; 
Retir'd  indeed,  but  not  alone, 
I  share  them  with  a  Spouse  unknown, 
Who  hides  me  here,  from  envious  eyes, 
From  all  intrusion  and  surprise. 

Imbow'ring  shades,  and  dens  profound  ! 
Where  echo  rolls  the  voice  around : 
Mountains  !  whose  elevated  heads, 
A  moist,  and  misty  veil  o'erspreads ; 
Disclose  a  solitary  Bride 
To  Him  I  love... to  none  beside. 

Ye  rills  !  thatmurm'ring  all  the  way, 
Among  the  polish'd  pebbles  stray  ; 
Creep  silently  along" the  ground, 
Lest  drawn  by  that  harmonious  sound, 
Some  wand'rer,  whom  I  would  not  meet, 
Should  stumble  on  my  lov'd  retreat . 

Enamell'd  meads,  and  hillocks  green, 
And  streams,  thai  water  all  the  scene  ! 
Ye  torrents,  londin  distant  ears  ! 
Ye  fountains,  that  receive  my  tears ! 

Ah  !  BtLU  conceal,  with  caution  due, 

A  charge,  I  trust  with  none  but  you. 


ARE    TO    BE    KEPT. 

If  when  my  pain  and  gTief  increase, 
I  seem  t'  enjoy  the  sweetest  peace, 
It  is  because  I  find  so  fair 
The  charming1  object  of  my  care, 
That  I  can  sport,  and  pleasure,  make 
Of  torment,  suffer'd  for  his  sake. 

Ye  meads  and  groves,  unconscious  things! 

Ye  know  not  whence  my  pleasure  springs, 

Ye  know  not,  and  ye  cannot  know, 

The  source  from  which  my  sorrows  flow  ; 

The  dear  sole  Cause  of  all  I  feel,... 

He  knows,  and  understands  them  well. 

Ye  deserts  !  where  the  wild  beasts  rove, 
Scenes  sacred  to  my  hours  of  love  ; 
Ye  forests  !  in  whose  shades  I  stray, 
Benighted  under  burning"  day  ; 
Ah  !  whisper  not  how  blest  am  I, 
Nor  while  I  live,  nor  when  I  die . 

Ye  lambs  !  that  sport  beneath  these  shades, 

And  bound  along"  the  mossy  glades  : 

Be  taught  a  salutary  fear, 

And  cease  to  bleat  when  I  am  near  : 

The  wolf  may  hear  your  harmless  cry, 

Whom  ye  should  dread,  as  much  as  I. 

How  calm,  amid  these  scenes,  my  mind  ! 
How  perfect  is  the  peace.  I  find  ! 


67 


58  THE    SECRETS    OF    "DIVINE    LOV* 

Oh  hush,  be  still  my  cr'ry  part, 
My  tongue,  my  pulse,  my  locating*  heart  ! 
Tliat  Love,  aspiring*  to  its  cause, 
May  suffer  not  a  moment's  pause. 

Ye  swift-finn'd  nations,  that  abide 
In  seas,  as  fathomless  as  wide ; 
And  unsuspicious  of  a  snare, 
Pursue  at  larg"e  your  pleasures  there  : 
Poor  sportive  fools  !  how  soon  docs  man 
Your  heedless  ignorance  trepan  ! 

Away  !  dive  deep  into  the  brine, 
Where  never  yet  sunk  plummet  line  ; 
Trust  me,  the  vast  Leviathan 
Is  merciful,  compared  with  man  ; 
Avoid  his  arts,  forsake  the  beach, 
And  never  play  within  his  r. 

My  soul  her  bondage  ill  endures  ;  . 

I  pant  for  liberty  like  yours  ; 

I  long  for  that  immense  Profound, 

That  knows  no  bottom,  and  no  bound  ; 

Lost  in  Infinity,  to  prove 

Th'  Incomprehensible  of  Love. 

Ye  birds !  that  lessen  as  ye  fly, 
And  vanish  in  the  distant  sky  ; 
.   To  v.  I 
Resounding  with  your  cheerful  M 


ARE    TO    BE    KEPT. 

Haste  to  escape  from  human  sight ; 
Fear  less,  the  vulture,  and  the  kite. 

How  blest,  and  how  secure  am  I, 
When  quitting*  earth,  I  soar  on  high  ; 
When  lost,  like  you  I  disappear, 
And  float  in  a  sublimer  sphere  ! 
Whence  falling,  within  human  view, 
I  am  ensnar'd,  and  caught  like  you. 

Omniscient  God  !  whose  notice  deigns 
To  try  the  heart,  and  search  the  reins  ; 
Compassionate  the  num'rous  woes, 
I  dare  not,  ev'n  to  thee,  disclose  ; 
Oh  save  me  from  the  cruel  hands 
Of  men,  who  fear  not  thy  commands ! 

Love,  all-subduing  and  divine, 
Care  for  a  creature  truly  thine  ; 
Reign  in  a  heart,  dispos'd  to  own 
No  sov'reign,  but  thyself  alone  ; 
Cherish  a  Bride,  who  cannot  rove, 
Nor  quit  thee  for  a  meaner  Love  ! 


59 


60 

THE  VICISSITUDES 

EXPERIENCED  IN  A  CHRISTIAN  LIFE. 

<:*&*&'.> 

Vol.  3.  Cantique  69. 
<:**:> 

I   suffer  fruitless  anguish  day  by  day, 
Each  moment,  as  it  passes,  marks  mvnain  ; 
Scarce  knowing  wnitHer,  doubtfully  I  stray, 
And  see  no  end  to  all  that  I  sustain. 

The  more  I  strive,  the  more  I  am  withstood ; 
Anxiety  encreasing  ev'ry  hour, 
My  spirit  finds  no  rest,  performs  no  good, 
And  nought  remains  of  all  my  former  pow'r. 

My  peace  of  heart  is  fled,  I  know  not  where  ; 
My  happy  hours,  like  shadows,  passM  away; 
Their  sweet  remembrance  doubles  all  my  care, 
Night  darker  seems,  succeeding  such  a  day. 

Dear  faded  joys,  and  impotent  regret, 
What  profit  is  there  in  incessant  tears  ? 
Oil  Thou,  whom,  once  beheld,  we  ncVr  forget, 
Reveal  thy  Love,  and  banish  all  my  fears  ! 

Alas  !  he  Hies  me... treats  me  as  his  foe, 

Views  not  my  sorrows,  hears  not  when  I  plead;... 


THE    I'ICISSITUDES,    &.C.  61 

Woe  such  as  mine,  despis'd,  neglected  woe, 
Unless  it  shorten  life,  is  vain  indeed. 

Pierc'd  with  a  thousand  wounds,  I  yet  survive  ; 
My  pangs  are  keen,  but  no  complaint  transpires  ; 
And  while  in  terrors  of  thy  wrath  I  live, 
Hell  seems  to  lose  its  less  tremendous  fires. 

Has  Hell  a  pain  I  would  net  g-ladly  bear,  ■ 
So  thy  severe  displeasure  might  subside  ? 
Hopeless  of  ease,   I  seem  already  there, 
My  life  extiiiguish'd,  and  yet  death  denied. 

Is  this  the  joy  so  promis'd...this  the  love, 
Tli'  unchanging  love,  so  sworn  in  better  days  ! 
Ah  dang'rous  glories  !  shown  me,  but  to  provu. 
How  lovely  thou,  and  I  how  rash  to  gaze. 

Why  did  I  see  them  ?  had  I  still  remain'd, 
Untaught,  still  ignorant  how  fair  thou  art, 
My  humbler  wishes  I  had  soon  obtain'd, 
Nor  known  the  torments  of  a  doubting  heart. 

DeprivM  of  all,  yet  feeling  no  desires, 
Whence  then  I  cry,  the  pangs  thai  I  sustain  ? 
Dubious  and  uninfbrm'd,  my  soul  inqii' 
Ought  she  te  cherish,  or  shake  of!  her  pain, 

SuiT'ring  I  rafter  not... sincerely  love, 
Yet  feel  no  touch  cf  thateiuV' 


C2  THE    VICISSITUDES    EXPERIENCED 

As  chance  inclines  me,  unconcern'd  I  move, 
All  times,  and  all  events,  to  me  the  same. 

I  search  my  heart,  and  not  a  wish  is  there, 
But  bums  with  zeal  that  hated  self  may  fall ; 
Such  is  the  sad  iniquietude  I  share, 
A  sea  of  doubts,  and  self  the  source  of  all. 

I  ask  not  life,  nor  do  I  wish  to  die  ; 
And  if  thine  hand  accomplish  not  my  cure, 
I  would  not  purchase,  with  a  single  sigh, 
A  free  discharge  from  all  that  I  endure. 

I  groan  in  chains,  yet  want  not  a  release  ; 
Am  sick,  and  know  not  the  distempered  part  ; 
Am  just  as  void  of  purpose,  as  of  peace  ; 
Have  neither  plan,  nor  fear,  nor  hope,  nor  heart. 

My  claim  to  life,  though  sought  with  earnest  care, 
No  light,  within  me,  nor  without  me,  shows  ; 
Once  I  had  faith  ;  but  now,  in  self-despair 
Find  my  chief  cordial,  and  my  best  repose. 

My  soul  is  a  forgotten  thing,  she  sinks, 
Sinks,  and  is  lost,  without  a  wish  to  rise  ; 
Feels  an  indin'rence  she  abhors,  and  thinks 
Her  name  eras'd  for  ever  from  the  skies. 

Language  affords  not  my  distress  a  name, 
Yet  is  it  real,  and  no  sickly  dream  ■, 


IN    A    CHRISTIAN    LIFE.  63 

'Tis  Love  inflicts  It ;  though  to  feel  that  flame, 
Is  alflknow  of  happiness  supreme. 

When  Love  departs,  a  Chaos  wide  and  vast, 
And  dark  as  Hell,  is  open'd  in  the  soul ; 
When  Love  returns,  the  gloomy  scene  is  past, 
No  tempests  shake  her,  and  no  fears  control. 

Then  tell  me,  why  these  ages  of  delay  ? 
Oh  Love,  all-excellent,  once  more  appear ; 
Disperse  the  shades,  and  snatch  me  into  day, 
From  this  abyss  of  night,  these  floods  of  fear  ! 

No... Love  is  angry,  will  not  now  endure 

A  sigh  of  mine,  or  suffer  a  complaint ; 

He  smites  me,  wounds  me,  and  withholds  the  cure  ; 

Exhausts  mypow'rs,  and  leaves  me  sick  and  faint. 

He  wounds,  and  hides  the  hand  that  gave  the  blow  ; 
He  flies,  he  re -appears,  and  wounds  again... 
Was  ever  heart  that  lov'dthee,  treated  so  ? 
Yet  I  adore  thee,  though  it  seem  in  vain. 

And  wilt  thou  leave  me,  whom,  when  lost  and  blind, 
Thou  didst  distinguish,  and  vouchsafe  to  chuse, 
Before  thy  laws  were  written  in  my  mind, 
While  yet  the  world  had  all  my  thoughts  and  views  ! 

Afou'leave  me  ?  when,  cnamour'd  of  thy  laws, 
I  make  thy  glory  my  supreme  delight ; 
F 


64  THE    VICISSITUDES    EXPERIENCES 

Noiv  blot  me  from  thy  register,  and  cause 
A  faithful  soul  to  perish  from  thy  sight  I 

What  can  have  caus'd  the  change  that  I  deplore  ! 
Is  it  to  prove  me,  if  my  heart  be  true  ? 
Permit  me  then,  while  prostrate  I  adore, 
To  draw,  and  place  its  picture  in  thy  view. 

'Tis  thine  without  reserve,  most  simply  thine  ; 
So  giv'n  to  thee,  that  it  is  not  my  own  ; 
A  willing  Captive  of  thy  grace  divine  ; 
And  loves,  and  seeks  thee,  for  thyself  alone. 

Pain  cannot  move  it,  danger  cannot  scare  ; 
Pleasure,  and  wealth,  in  its  esteem,  are  dust ; 
It  loves  thee,  ev'n  when  least  inclined,  to  spare 
Its  tend'rest  feelings  and  avows  thee  just. 

'Tis  all  thine  own  ;  my  spirit  is  so  too, 
An  undivided  ofT'ring  at  thy  shrine  ; 
It  seeks  thy  glory  with  no  double  view, 
Thy  glory,  with  no  secret  bent  to  mine. 

Love,' hoi)'  Love  !  and  art  thou  not  severe, 
To  Blight  me,  thus  devoted,  and  thus  fixt  ? 
Mine  is  an  everlasting  ardor,  clear 
From  all  self-bias,  gen'rous  and  unmixt. 

But  1  am  silent)  seeing  what  I  sec... 

And  fear,  with  cause,  that  I  am  sclfdcceivM  ; 


IN    A    CHRISTIAN    LIFE.  65 

Not  ev'n  my  faith  is  from  suspicion  free, 
And,  that  I  love,  seems  not  to  he  bcliev'd. 

Live  thou,  and  reign,  for  ever,  glorious  Lord  ! 
My  last,  least  offering",  I  present  thee  now... 
Renounce  me,  leave  me,  and  be  still  ador'd  ! 
Slay  me,  my  God,  and  I  applaud  the  blow. 

«££*&» 

WATCHING  UNTO  GOD  IN  THE 
NIGHT-SEASON. 


Vol.  3.  Cantiqiie  71. 


■H    H  -H    t  I- 


SLEEP  at  last  has  fled  these  eyes, 

Nor  do  I  regret  his  flight, 
More  alert  my  spirits  rise, 

And  my  heart  is  free  and  light. 

Nature  silent  all  around, 
Not  a  single  witness  near  ; 

God,  as  soon  as  sought,  is  found ; 
And  the  flame  of  Love  burns  clear. 

Interruption,  all  day  long, 

Checks  the  current  of  my  joys  ; 

Creatures  press  me  with  a  throng, 
And  perplex  me  with  their  noise. 


66  WATCHING    UNTO    GOD,  &C 

Undisturb'd  I  muse,  nil  night, 
On  the  first  Eternal  Fair  ; 

Nothing-  there  obstructs  delight* 
Love  is  renovated  there. 

Life,  with  its  perpetual  stir, 
Proves  a  foe  to  Love  and  me  ; 

Fresh  entanglements  occur.... 

Comes  the  night,  and  sets  me  free. 

Never  more,  sweet  sleep,  suspend 
My  enjoyments  always  new  ; 

Leave  me  to  possess  my  Friend  ; 
Other  eyes  and  hearts  subdue. 

Hush  the  world,  that  I  may  wake 
To  the  taste  of  pure  delights  ; 

Oh  the  pleasures  I  partake.... 
God,  the  Partner  of  my  nights  ! 

David,  for  the  self-same  cause, 
Night  prefer'd  to  busy  day  ; 

Hearts,  whom  heav'nly  beauty  draws, 
Wish  the  glaring  sun  away. 

Sleep,  Self-lovers,  is  for  you.... 

Souls  that  love  celestial  know, 
Fairer  scenes,  by  night  can  view, 

Than  the  sun  could  ever  show. 


67 

ON  THE  SAME. 

— c++:> — 

Vol.  3.  Cantique  72. 

SEASON  of  my  purest  pleasure, 

Sealer  of  observing  eyes  ! 
When  in  larger  freer  measure, 

I  can  commune  with  the  skies  ; 
While,  beneath  thy  shade  extended. 

Weary  man  forgets  his  woes  ; 
I,  my  daily  trouble  ended, 

Find,  in  Watching,  my  Repose. 

Silence  all  around  prevailing, 

Nature  hush'd  in  slumber  sweet, 
No  rude  noise  mine  ears  assailing, 

Now  my  God  and  I  can  meet : 
Universal  nature  slumbers, 

And  my  soul  partakes  the  calm, 
Breathes  her  ardor  out  in  numbers, 

Plaintive  song,  or  lofty  psalm,  j 

Now  my  passion,  pure  and  holy, 

Shines,  and  burns,  without  restraint ; 

Which  the  day's  fatigue,  and  folly, 
Caus'd  to  languish,  dim  and  faint: 
F  2 


68  WAT  CHI  KG    UNTO    GOD 

Charming  hours  of  relaxation  ! 

How  I  dread  th'  ascending-  sun  ! 
Surely,  idle  conversation 

Is  an  evil,  match'd  by  none. 

Worldly  prate,  and  babble,  hurt  me; 

Unintelligible  prove  ; 
Neither  teach  me,  nor  divert  me  ; 

I  have  ears  for  none  but  Love. 
Me,  they  rude  esteem,  and  foolish, 

Hearing  my  absurd  replies  ; 
I  have  neither  arts'  fine  polish, 

Nor  the  knowledge  of  the  wise. 

Simple  souls,  and  unpolluted, 

By  conversing  with  the  Great, 
Have  a  mind  and  taste,  ill  suited 

To  their  dignity  and  state  j 
All  their  talking,  reading,  writing, 

Are  but  talents  misapplied  ; 
Infant's  prattle  I  delight  in, 

Nothing  human  chuse  beside. 

'Tis  the  secret  fear  of  sinning, 

Checks  my  tongue,  or  I  should  say, 
When  I  see  the  night  beginning, 

I  am  glad  of  parting  day  • 
Love,  this  gentle  admonition 

Whispers  soft,  within  my  breast ; 
"  Choice  befits  hot  thy  condition, 

Acquiescence  suits  thee  be^t." 


IS   THE    WIGHT    SEASON. 

Henceforth,  the  repose  and  pleasure 

Night  affords  me,  I  resign  ; 
And  thy  Will  shall  be  the  measure, 

Wisdom  infinite  !  of  mine  : 
Wishing,  is  but  Inclination 

Quarrelling  with  thy  decrees  ; 
Wayward  nature  finds  th'  occasion, 

'Tis  her  folly  and  disease. 

Night,  with  its  sublime  enjoyment!, 

Now  no  longer  will  I  chuse  ; 
Nor  the  day,  with  its  employments, 

Irksome  as  they  seem,  refuse 
Lessons  of  a  God's  inspiring, 

Neither  time  nor  place  impedes  ; 
From  our  wishing  and  desiring, 

Our  Unjiappiness  proceeds. 

<^>*<^» 

ON  THE  SAME. 

************ 

Vol  3.  Cantique  73. 

NIGHT !  how  I  love  thy  silent  shades, 

My  spirits  they  compose  ; 
The  bliss  of  heav'n  my  soul  pervades, 

In  spite  of  all  my  woes. 


TO  WATCHING    UNTO    GOIT 

While  sleep  instils  her  poppy  dcw& 

In  ev'ry  slumb'ring'  eye, 
I  watch,  to  meditate  and  muse, 

In  blest  tranquillity. 

And  when  I  feel  a  God"  immense 

Familiarly  impart, 
With  ev'ry  proof  he  can  dispense, 

His  favour  to  my  heart. 

My  native  meanness  I  lament, 

Though  most  divinely  fill'd 
With  all  th'  ine  .Table  content, 

That  Deity  can  yield. 

His  purpose,  and  his  course,  he  keeps  ^ 
Treads  all  my  reas'iiing-s  down  ; 

Commands  me  out  of  Nature's  deeps, 
And  hides  me  in  his  own. 

When  in  the  dust,  its  proper  place, 

Our  pride  of  heart  we  lay  ; 
'Tis  then,  a  deluge  of  his  grace 

Eears  all  our  sins  away. 

Thor.,  whom  I  serve,  and  who3C  I  aifl, 
Whose  influence  from  on  high 

Re  lines,  and  still  rennet  my  flame, 
And  makes  my  fetters  fly  ; 


THE    JOY    Or   THE    CROSS.  71 

How  wretched  is  the  creature's  state 

Who  thwarts  thy  gracious  pow'r  ; 
Crush'd  und  r  sin's  enormous  weight. 

Increasing-  ev'ry  hour  ! 

The  night,  when  pass'd  entire  with  thee, 

How  luminous  and  clear  ! 
Then  sleep  has  no  delights  for  me, 

Lest  Thou  shouldst  disappear. 

My  Saviour  !  occupy  me  still 

In  this  secure  recess  ; 
Let  reason  slumber  if  she  will, 

My  joy  shall  not  be  less  : 

Let  Reason  slumber  out  the  night ; 

But  if  Thou  deign  to  make 
My  soul  th'  abode  of  truth  and  light, 

Ah,  keep  my  heart  awake  ! 

«€£+*&» 

THE  JOY  OF  THE  CROSS. 


Vol.  3.  Cantique  97. 


LONG  plung'd  in  sorrow,  I  resign 
My  »oul  to  that  dear  hand  of  thine, 
Without  reserve  or  fear  ; 


72  THE    JOY    OF    THE    CliOSS. 

Thai  hand  shall  wipe  my  streaming  eyes  ; 
Or  into  smiles  of  glad  surprise, 
Transform  the  falling'  tear. 

My  sole  possession  is  thy  Love  ; 
In  earth  beneath,  or  heav'n  above, 

I  have  no  other  store  ; 
And  though  with  fervent  suit  I  pray, 
And  importune  thee  night  and  day, 

I  ask  thee  nothing  more. 

My  rapid  hours  pursue  the  course 
Prcscrib'd  them  by  love's  sweetest  force  ; 

And  I,  thy  sov 'reign  Will, 
Without  a  wish  V  escape  my  doom  ; 
Though  still  a  suff'rer  from  the  womb, 

And  doom'd  to  suffer  still . 

By  thy  command,  where'er  I  stray, 
Sorrow  attends  me  all  my  way, 

A  never-failing  friend  ; 
And  if  my  sufferings  may  augment 
Thy  praise,  behold  me  well  content... 

Let  sorrow  still  attend  I 

It  costs  me  no  regret,  that  she, 

Who  follow'd  Christ,  should  follow  me  ; 

And  though,  where'er  she  goes, 
Thorns  spring  spontaneous  at  her  feet, 
I  love  her,  and  extract  a  sweet 

From  all  mv  bitter  woes. 


'IHE    JOY    OF    THE    CROSS.  7  J 

Adieu  !  ye  vain  delights  of  earth  ; 
Insipid  sports,  and  childish  mirth, 

I  taste  no  sweets  in  you  ; 
Unknown  delights  are  in  the  Cross, 
All  joy  beside,  to  me  is  dross  ; 

And  Jesus  thought  so  too. 

The  Cross  !  Oh  ravishment  and  bliss.... 
How  grateful  ev'n  its  anguish  is  ; 

Its  bitterness,  how  sweet ! 
There  ev'ry  sense,  and  all  the  mind, 
In  all  her  faculties  refin'd, 

Tastes  happiness  complete. 

Souls  once  enabl'd  to  disdain 
Base  sublunary  joys,  maintain 

Their  dignity  secure  ; 
The  fever  of  desire  is  pass'd, 
And  Love  has  all  its  genuine  taste. 

Is  delicate  and  pure. 

Self-love  no  grace  in  sorrow  sees, 
Consults  her  own  peculiar  ease  ; 

'Tis  ail  the  bliss  she  knows  : 
But  nobler  aims  true  Love  employ  j 
In  self-denial  is  her  joy, 

In  sufi  "ring  her  repose. 

Sorrow,  and  Love,  go  side  by  side  ; 
N^r  height,  nor  depth,  can  e'er  divide 
Their  Jieav'n-appointed  bancU  ; 


74  J»Y    IN     MARTYRDOM. 

Those  dear  associates  still  are  one, 
Nor,  till  the  race  of  life  is  rim, 
Disjoin  their  wedded  hands. 

Jesus,  avenger  of  our  Fall, 
Tlion  faithful  Lover,  above  all 

The  Cross  has  ever  borne  ! 
Oh  tell  me, ...Life  is  in  thy  voice... 
How  much  afflictions  were  thy  choice, 

And  sloth  and  ease  thy  scorn  ! 

Thy  choice,  and  mine,  shall  be  the  same  ; 
Inspirer  of  that  holy  flame, 

Which  must  for  ever  blaze  ! 
To  take  the  Cross,  and  follow  thee, 
Where  love  and  duty  lead,  shall  be 

My  portion,  and  my  praise. 


JOY  IN  MARTYRDOM. 

*:«£:*£:> 

Vol.  2.  Continue  UQ. 
— «.*:*•► — 

SWEET  tenants  of  this  grove  ! 

Who  singi  without  design, 
A  son^  of  ai  tk.ss  love, 
I)i  unison  with  mm*  ; 


JOY    IN    MARTYRDOM. 

These  echoing  shades  return 
Full  many  a  note  of  ours, 

That  wise  ones  cannot  learn, 
With  all  their  boasted  pow'rs. 

Oh  thou !  whose  sacred  charms 

These  hearts  so  seldom  love, 
Although  thy  beauty  warms, 

And  blesses  all  above  ; 
How  slow  arc  human  things, 

To  chuse  their  happiest  lot! 
All-glorious  King  of  Kings, 

Say,  why  we  love  thee  not  ? 

This  heart,  that  cannot  rest, 

Shall  thine  for  ever  prove  ; 
Though  bleeding  and  distress'd, 

Yet  joyful  in  thy  love  : 
'Tis  happy,  though  it  breaks 

Beneath  thy  chast'ning  hand  ; 
And  speechless,  yet  it  speaks 

What  thou  canst  understand. 


76 
SIMPLE  TRUST. 


Vol.  3.  Cantique95. 

oooooooooooo 

STILL,  still,  without  ceasing*, 

I  feel  it  increasing, 
This  fervour  of  holy  desire  ; 

And  often  exclaim, 

Let  me  die  in  the  flume 
Of  a  Love  that  can  never  expire  ! 

Had  I  words  to  explain, 

What.?/??  must  sustain, 
Who  dies  to  the  world  and  its  ways  ; 

How  joy  and  affright; 

Distress  and  delight, 
Alternately  chequer  her  days  ; 

Thou,  sweetly  severe ! 

I  v.  onld  make  the  e  appear, 
In  all  thou  art  pleas'd  to  award, 

Not  more  in  the  sweet, 

Than  the  bitter  I  meet, 
My  tender  <il  Lord. 

Th:s  Faith,  in  the  dark 
Pursuing  its  mark, 
Through  many  lharp  trials  of  Love  ; 


CHE    NECESSITY    OF  SELF-ABASEMEX  T.  77 

Is  the  aorr  >v  fill  waste, 

Tii  at  is  to  I 
In  the  way  to  the  Canaan  above. 

«€*>••< 

THE  NECESSITY  CF  SELF-ABASEMENT. 

<:<frifK>      ■ 

To/.  3.  Cantique  92. 
i — <:4^> — 

SOURCE  of  Love,  my  brighter  Sun, 

Thou  alone  my  comfort  art ; 

See  my  race  is  almost  run  ; 

Hast  thou  left  this  trembling"  heart  ? 

In  my  youth,  thy  charming  eyea 
Drew  me  from  the  ways  of  men  ; 
Then  I  drank  ur.mingled  joys  ; 
Frown  of  thine,  saw  never  then. 

Spouse  of  Christ  was  then  my  name  ; 
And,  devoted  all  to  thee, 
Strangely  jealous  I  became, 
Jealous  of  this  Self,  in  me. 

Thee  to  love,  and  none  beside, 
Waa  my  darling,  sole  employ  ; 
While  alternately  I  died, 
Now  of  grief,  and  now  of  joy. 


78  THE    NECESSITY    OF    SELF-ABASEMENT. 

Through  the  chirk  and  silent  night, 
On  thy  radiant  smiles  I  dwelt ; 
And  to  see  the  dawning  light, 

Was  the  keenest  pain  I  felt. 

Thou  my  gracious  teacher  wert ; 
And  thine  eye,  so  close  applied, 
While  it  watch'd  thy  pupil's  heart, 
Seem'd  to  look  at  none  beside. 

Conscious  of  no  evil  drift, 
This,  I  cried,  is  Love  indeed.... 
'Tis  the  Giver,  not  the  Gift, 
Whence  the  joys  I  feel  proceed. 

But  soon  humbled,  and  laid  low, 
Stript  of  all  thou  hadst  conferr'd. 
Nothing"  left,  but  sin  and  woe, 
I  perceiv'd  how  I  had  err'd 

Oh,  the  vain  conceit  of  man, 
Dreaming  of  a  good  his  own, 
Arrogating  all  he  can, 
Though  the  Lord  is  good  alone  ! 

He,  the  graces  Thou  bast  wrougl 
Makes  subservient  to  his  prid<   ; 
Ignorant,  that  one  bui  h  1 
Passes  all  bis  sin  bes 


I.OVE    INCREASED    BY    5U?rERlNC  79 

Such  his  folly.... prov'd,  at  last, 
By  the  loss  of  that  repose 
Self-complacence  cannot  taste, 
Only  Love  divine  bestows. 

'Tis  by  this  reproof  severe, 
And  by  this  reproof  alone, 
His  defects  at  last  appear, 
Man  is  to  himself  made  known. 

Leam,  all  Earth!  that  feeble  Man, 
Sprung-  from  this  terrestrial  clod, 
Nothing-  is,  and  nothing-  can  ; 
Life,  and  pow'r,  are  all  in  God. 

— «€j*^> — 

LOVE  INCREASED  BY  SUFFERING. 

*********** 
Vol.  3.  Cantique  98. 

*********** 

•  I  love  the  Lord,"  is  still  the  strain 

This  heart  delights  to  sing  ; 
But  I  reply, ..  .your  thoughts  are  vain, 

Perhaps  'tis  no  such  thing. 

Before  the  pow'r  of  Love  divine, 
Creation  fades  away ; 

G  2 


SO        LOVE  INCREASED  BY  BUFFERING* 

Till  only  God  is  seen  to  shine 
In  all  that  we  survey . 

In  golphfl  of  awful  night  we  find 

The  God  of  our  desires  ; 
'Tis  there  he  stamps  the  yielding  mind, 

And  doubles  all  its  fires. 

Flames  of  encircling1  Love  invest, 
And  pierce  it  sweetly  through  ; 

'Tis  fill'd  with  sacred  joy,  yet  press' J 
With  sacred  sorrow  too. 


Ah  Love  !  my  heart  is  in  the  right 
Amidst  a  thousand  woes, 

To  thee,  its  ever  new  d<  light, 
And  all  its  peace,  it  owes. 


Fresh  causes  of  distress  occur, 
Where'er  I  look  or  move  ; 

The  comforts,  I  to  all  prefer, 
Arc  solitude  and  love. 

Nor  exile  I,  nor  prison  fear  ; 

Love  makes  my< 
I  find  a  Saviour  ev*ry  w  I 

jlis  grace,  in  ev^ry  si  ate 

Not  castle  wi  !-':,  nor  du 
Ei  '.■i  U  his  [ui(  filing  beams  ; 


SCENES    FAVOURABLE    TO    MEDITATION.  81 

There  I  can  sit,  and  BVOg$  and  v.  < 
And  dwell  on  heav'nly  themes. 

There,  sorrow,  for  his  sake,  is  found 

A  joy  beyond  compare  ; 
There,  no  p  oughts  abound, 

Nop] 

A  Saviour  doubles  all  my  }< .■;  s, 

And  sweetens  all  my  pains, 
JI*>  strength  in  my  defence  employ 

Cons*  ■  d  sustains. 

I  fear  no  ill,  resent  no  wrong"; 

Nor  feel  a  passion  move, 
When  malice  whets  her  slanderous  tongue  ; 

Such  patience  i 

«C*£*» 

SCENES  FAVOURABLE  TO  MEDITATION 

——<:-£>£:> 

Vol.  3.  Cantrr/u  -  63. 

<:%<%■:> 

WILDS  horrid  and  dark  with  o'ershadowing  trees, 
Rocks  that  ivy  and  bru  I         old, 

^  nature  with  dread  ai 
But  I  with  a  pi  told 


82  SCENES    FAVOURABLE    TO    MEDITATION. 

Though  awfully  silent,  and  Bhtggy  and  rude, 
I  am  eharm'd  with  the  peace  ye  afford. 

Your  shades  are  a  temple  where  none  will  intrude, 
The  abode  of  my  Lover  and  Lord. 

I  am  sick  of  thy  splendor,  O  fountain  of  day, 
And  here  I  am  hid  from  thy  beams, 

Here  safely  contemplate  a  brighter  display 
Of  the  noblest  and  holiest  themes. 


Ye  forests  that  yield  me  my  sweetest  repose, 

Where  stillness  and  solitude  reign, 
To  you  I  securely  and  boldly  disclose 

The  dear  anguish  of  which  I  complain. 

Here  sweetly  forgetting",  and  wholly  forgot 
By  the  world  and  its  turbulent  throng, 

The  birds  and  the  streams  lend  me  many  a  note 
That  aids'rneditation  and  song. 

Here  wand'ring  in  scenes  that  are  sacred  to  night, 
Love  wears  me,  and  wastes  me  av.  ay, 

And  often  the  sun  has  spent  much  of  his  light, 
Ere  yet  I  perceive  it  is  day. 

While  a  mantle  of  darkness  envelops  the  sphert, 
My  sorrows  are  safely  rehears'd, 

To  me  the  dark  hours  are  all  equally  dear, 
And  the  last  is  as  sweet  as  the  first. 


SCENES    FAVOURABLE    TO    MEDITATION.  OJ 

Here  I  and  the  beasts  of  the  desert  agree, 

Mankind  are  the  wolves  that  I  fear, 
They  grudge  me  my  natural  right  to  be  free, 

But  nobody  questions  it  here. 

Though  little  is  found  in  this  dreary  abode 

That  appetite  wishes  to  find, 
My  spirit  is  sooth'd  by  the  presence  of  God, 

And  appetite  wholly  resign'd. 

Ye  desolate  scenes,  to  your  solitude  led, 

My  life  I  in  praises  employ, 
And  scarce  know  the  source  ofthe  tears  that  I  shed, 

Proceed  they  from  sorrow  or  joy. 

There  is  nothing  I  seem  to  have  skill  to  discern, 

I  feel  out  my  way  in  the  dark, 
Love  reigns  in  my  bosom,   I  constantly  burn, 

Yet  hardly  distinguish  the  spark. 

I  live,  yet  I  seem  to  myself  to  be  dead, 

Such  a  riddle  is  not  to  be  found, 
I  am  nourished  without  knowing  how  I  am  fed, 

I  have  nothing,  and  yet  I  abound. 

Oli  Love  !  who  in  darkness  art  pleas'd  to  abide, 

Though  dimly  yet  surely  I  see, 
That  these  contrarieties  only  reside 

In  the  soul  that  is  chosen  of  thee. 


Zi  SCENES    FAVOURABLE    TO    MEDITATION. 

Ah  !  send  me  not  back  to  the  rite  of  mankind 

Perversely  by  folly  begiiiFd, 
For  where  in  tiic  crouds  I  have  left  shall  I  find 

The  spirit  and  heart  of  a  Child  ? 

Here  let  me,  though  fixt  in  a  desert,  be  free, 
A  Little  one  whom  they  despise, 

Though  lost  to  the  world,  if  in  union  with  thee, 
Shall  be  holy,  and  happy  and  wise. 


ORIGINAL  POEMS. 

— *:++» — 

IY  THE  TRANSLATOR  OF   THE   FOREGOING  PISCES. 


87 

AN  EPISTLE 

TO 

A  PROTESTANT  LADY  IN  FRANCE. 

<:<$"$►:>••— 

Madam, 

A  Stranger's  purpose  in  these  lays 
Is  to  congratulate,  and  not  to  praise. 
To  give  the  creature  her  Creator's  due, 
Were  sin  in  me,  and  an  offence  to  you. 
From  Man  to  Man,  or  ev'n  to  Woman  paid, 
Praise  is  the  medium  of  a  knavish  trade, 
A  Coin  by  Craft  for  folly's  use  design'd, 
Spurious,  and  only  current  with  the  blind. 

The  path  of  sorrow,  and  that  path  alone, 
Leads  to  the  Land  where  sorrow  is  unknown; 
No  Trav'ller  ever  reach'd  that  blest  abode, 
Who  found  not  thorns  and  briars  in  his  road. 
The  world  may  dance  along  the  flow'ry  plain, 
Cheer'd  as  they  go,  by  many  a  sprightly  strain, 
Where  Nature  has  her  mossy  velvet  spread, 
With  unshod  feet  they  yet  securely  tread, 
Admonish'd,  scorn  the  caution  and  the  friend, 
Bent  upon  pleasure,  heedless  of  its  end. 
H 


88  AN    EPISTLE,      &.C 

But  He  who  knew  what  human  hearts  would  prove, 

How  slow  to  learn  the  dictates  of  1  is  Love, 

That  hard  by  nature,  and  of  stubborn  Will, 

A  life  of  ease  would  mi  harder  still, 

In  pity  to  the  sinners  he  de> 

To  rescue  from  the  ruins  of  mankind, 

Call'dfor  a  cloud  to  darken  all  their}  ears, 

And  said..."  go  spend  them  in  the  vale  of  tean. 

Oh  balmy  gales  of  soul-reviving-  air, 

Oh  salutary  streams  that  murmur  there, 

These  flowing*  from  the  fount  of  Grace  above, 

Those  breath'd  from  lips  of  everlasting  Love  ! 

The  flinty  soil  indeed  their  feet  annoys, 

And  sudden  sorrow  n'ps  their  springing  joys, 

An  envious  world  will  interpose  its  frown 

To  mar  delights  superior  to  its  own, 

And  maay  a  pang,  experienced  still  within, 

Reminds  them  of  their  hated  Inmate,  Sin, 

But  Ills  of  ev'ry  shape  and  ev'ry  name 

Transform'd  to  Blessing's  miss  their  cruel  aim, 

And  ev'ry  moment's  Calm  that  sooths  the  breast, 

Is  giv'n  in  earnest  of  Eternal  Rest. 

Ah  !  be  not  sad,  although  thy  lot  be  cast 
Far  from  the  flock,  and  in  a  distant  waste  ! 
.  No  shepherds'  tent3  within  thy  view  appear, 
But  the  Chief  Shepherd  is  for  ever  near, 
Thy  tender  sorrows  and  thy  plaintive  strain 
riow  in  a  foreign  land  but  not  in  vain, 


rniENDsnip.  89 

Thy  tears  all  issue  from  a  source  divine, 
Andev'ry  drop  bespeaks  a  Saviour  thine... 
Twafl  thus  in  Gideon's  fleece  the  dews  were  found, 
And  drought  on  all  the  drooping*  herbs  around. 

«0**&» 

FRIENDSHIP. 


WHAT  Virtue  or  what  mental  grace 
But  men  unqualified  and  base 

"Will  boast  it  their  possession  ? 
Profusion  apes  the  noble  part 
Of  Liberality  of  heart, 

And  dulncss  of  Discretion. 

If  ev'ry  polish'd  Gem  we  find 
Illuminating'  heart  or  mind, 

Provoke  to  Imitation  ; 
No  wonder  Friendship  does  the  same, 
That  Jewel  of  the  purest  flame, 

Or  rather  gpnstellation.4 

No  lmave  but  boldly  will  pretend 
The  requisites  that  form  a  Friend, 

A  real  and  a  sound  one, 
Nor  any  fool  he  would  deceive, 
But  prove  as  ready  to  believe, 

And  dream  that  he  has  found  one. 


90  FRIENDSHIP. 

Candid,  and  generous  and  just, 
Boys  care  but  little  whom  they  trust, 

An  error  soon  corrected — 
For  who  but  learns  in  riper  years, 
That  man  when  smoothest  he  appears 

Is  most  to  be  suspected  ? 

But  here  again  a  danger  lies, 
Lest  having  misemployed  our  eyes, 

And  taken  trash  for  treasure, 
We  should  unwarily  conclude 
Friendship  a  false  ideal  Good, 

A  mere  Utopian  pleasure. 

An  acquisition  rather  rare, 
Is  yet  no  subject  of  despair  ; 

Nor  is  it  wise  complaining, 
If  either  on  forbidden  ground, 
Or  where  it  was  not  to  be  found, 

We  sought  without  attaining. 

No  Friendship  will  abide  the  test 
That  stands  on  sordid  Interest, 

Or  mean  Self-love  erected  ; 
Nor  such  as  may  awhile  subsist 
Between  the  Sot  and  Sensualist 

For  vicious  ends  connected. 

Who  seeks  a  Friend,  should  come  disposed 
T'  exhibit  in  full  bloom  disclos'd 
The  graces  and  the  beauties 


rRitxnsHip. 

That  form  the  character  he  seeks, 
For  'tis  an  Union  that  bespeaks 
Reciprocated  duties. 

Mutual  attention  is  implied, 
And  equal  truth  on  either  side, 

And  constantly  supported  ; 
'Tis  senseless  arrogance  t'  accuse 
Another  of  sinister  views, 

Our  own  as  much  distorted. 

But  will  Sincerity  sufr.ce  ? 
It  is  indeed  above  all  price, 

And  must  be  made  the  basis  ; 
Butev'ry  virtue  of  the  Soul 
Must  constitute  the  charming  whole, 

All  shining-  in  their  places. 

A  fretful  temper  will  divide 

The  closest  knot  that  may  be  tied, 

By  ceaseless  sharp  corrosion  ; 
A  temper  passionate  and  fierce 
May  suddenly  your  joys  disperse 

At  one  immense  explosion. 

In  vain  the  Talkative  unite 

In  hopes  of  permanent  delight... 

The  secret  just  committed, 
Forgetting'  its  important  weight, 
They  drop  through  mere  desire  to  prate, 
And  by  themselves  outwitted. 
H  2 


91 


92  FRIENDSHIP. 

How  blight  soc'er  the  prospect  seems, 

All  thoughts  of  Friendship  are  but  dreams, 

If  envy  chance  to  creep  in  ; 
An  envious  man,  if  you  succeed, 
May  prove  a  dangerous  Friend  indeed, 

But  not  a  Friend  worth  keeping'. 

As  Envy  pines  at  Good  possess'd, 
So  Jealousy  looks  forth  distress'd 

On  Good  that  seems  approaching', 
And  if  success  his  steps  attend, 
Discerns  a  rival  in  a  Friend, 

And  hates  him  for  encroaching". 

Hence  Authors  of  illustrious  name, 
Unless  belied  by  common  fame, 

Are  sadly  prone  to  quarrel, 
To  deem  the  wit  a  friend  displays 
A  tax  upon  their  own  just  praise, 

And  pluck  each  others  laurel. 

A  man  renown'd  for  repartee 
Will  seldom  scruple  to  make  free 

With  Friendship's  finest  fe( 
Will  thrust  a  dagger  at  your  breast, 
And  say  he  wounded  you  in  jest, 

By  way  of  balm   for  healing. 

Whoever  keeps  an  open  ear 
For  tattlers,  will  be  sure  to  hear 
The  trumpet  of  contention  ; 


FRIENDSHIP. 

Aspersion  is  the  babbler's  trade, 
To  listen  is  to  lend  him  aid, 
And  rush  into  dissension. 

A  Friendship  that  in  frequent  fits 
Of  controversial  rage  emits 

The  sparks  of  disputation, 
Like  hand  in  hand  Insurance  plates, 
Most  unavoidably  creates 

The  thought  of  Conflagration. 

Some  fickle  creatures  boast  a  soul 
True  as  the  needle  to  the  pole, 

Their  humour  yet  so  various... 
They  manifest  their  whole  life  through 
The  needle's  variation  too, 

Their  Love  is  so  precarious. 

The  great  and  small  but  rarely  meet 
On  terms  of  amity  complete, 

Plebeians  must  surrender, 
And  yield  so  much  to  noble  folk, 
It  is  combining  fire  with  smoke, 

Obscurity  with  splendour. 

Some  are  so  placid  and  serene 
(As  Irish  bogs  are  always  green) 

They  sleep  secure  from  waking ; 
And  are  indeed  a  Bog  that  bears 
Your  unparticipated  cares 

Unmov'd,  and  without  quaking". 


k)[  FRIENDSHIP. 

Courtier  and  Patriot  cannot  mix 
Their  het'rogeneous  politics, 

Without  an  efFer*e#eei*ee 
I/ik(  Its  with  lemon  juice, 

Which  does  riot  yet  like  them  produce 

A  friendly  coalescence. 

Religion  should  extinguish  i 

And  make  a  calm  of  human  Life  \ 

But  friends  that  chau< 
On  points  which  God  has  I 
How  fiercely  will  they  meet  and  charge, 

No  combatants  are  stiller  ! 

To  prove  at  last  my  main  I 
Needs  no  expense  of  argument, 

No  cutting'  and  contriving... 
Seeking"  a  real  friend  we  seem 
T*  adopt  the  Chemists  golden  dream, 

With  still  less  hope  of  thriving-. 

Sometimes  the  fault  is  all  our  own, 
Some  blemish  in  due  time  made  known 

By  trespass  or  omission  ; 
Sometimes  occasion  brings  to  light 
Our  friends  defect  long-  hid  from  sight. 

And  even  from  suspicion. 

Then  judge  yourself,  and  prove  your  man 
As  circumspectly  as  you  can, 
And  having  made  election. 


FRIENDSHIP.  95 


Beware  no  negligence  of  yours, 
Such  as  a  Friend  but  ill  endures, 
Enfeeble  his  affection. 

That  Secrets  are  a  sacred  trust, 

That  friends  should  be  sincere  and  just, 

That  Constancy  befits  them, 
Are  observations  on  the  case 
That  savour  much  of  common  place, 

And  all  the  world  admits  them. 

But  'tis  not  timber,  lead,  and  stone, 
An  architect  requires  alone 

To  finish  a  fine  building1... 
The  palace  were  but  half  complete, 
If  he  could  possibly  forget 

The  carving  and  the  gilding. 

The  man  that  hails  you,  Tom  or  Jack, 
And  proves  by  thumps  upon  your  back, 

How  he  esteems  your  merit, 
Is  such  a  friend,  that  one  had  need 
Be  very  much  his  friend  indeed 

To  pardon  or  to  bear  it. 

As  similarity  of  mind, 

Or  something  not  to  be  defin'd, 

First  fixes  our  attention  ; 
So  manners  decent  and  polite, 
The  same  we  practis'd  at  first  sight, 

Must  save  it  from  declension. 


96  FRIENDSHIP. 

Some  act  upon  the  prudent  pHn, 
"  Say  little,  and  hear  all  you  can," 

Safe  policy  but  hateful — 
So  barren  sands  imbibe  the  show'r, 
But  render  neither  fruit  nor  flow'r, 

Unpleasant  and  ungrateful. 

The  man  I  trust,  if  shv  to  me, 
Shall  find  me  as  reserv'd  as  he, 

No  subterfuge  or  pleading 
Shall  win  my  confidence  again-, 
I  will  by  no  means  entertain 

A  Spy  on  my  proceeding. 

These  samples... for  alas  !  af  last 
These  are  but  samples  and  a  taste 

Of  evils  yet  unmention'd... 
May  prove  the  task  a  task  indeed, 
In  which  'tis  much  if  we  succeed 

However  well-intention'd. 

Pursue  the  search,  and  you  will  find 
Good  sense  and  knowledge  of  mankind 

To  be  at  least  expedient, 
And  after  summing  all  the  rest, 
Religion  ruling  in  the  breast 

A  principal  ingredient. 

The  noblest  Friendship  ever  shown 
The  Saviour's  history  makes  kivwn. 

Though  some  have  turn'd,  and  turn'd  if, 


FRIENDSHIP.  97 


And  whether  being1  craz'd  or  blind, 
Or  peeking  with  a  bias'u  mind, 
Save  n^t,  it  seems,  discern'd  it. 

Ol  Friendship  !  if  my  soul  forego 
Xiy  dear  delights  v\hile  here  below  ; 

To  mortify  and  grieve  mc, 
dav  I  myself  at  hist  appear 
Unworthy,  base,  and  insincere, 
Or  may  my  friend  deceive  me ! 


98 

STANZAS, 

SUBJOINED   TO 

A  BILL  OF  MORTALITY 

FOR 

THE  PARISH  OF  ALL  SAINTS, 
IN  THE  TOWN  OF  NORTHAMPTON. 

ANNO    DOMINI   1787- 

Pallida  Mors  <ecp.io  puhat  pede  pcuperum  tahernas, 
Hegii')nx[ue  tune*-.  Horace. 

Pale  Death,  with  equal  foot  strikes  wide  the  door 
Of  royal  Halls  and  hovels  of  the  Poor. 

— <:+:+:» — 

WHILE  thirteen  moons  saw  smoothly  run 

The  Nen's  barge-laden  wave, 
All  these,  Life's  rambling' journey  done, 

Have  found  their  home,  the  Grave. 

Was  Man  (frail  always)  made  more  frail 

Than  in  foregoing*  years  ? 
Did  Famine  or  did  Plague  prevail, 

That  so  much  death  appears  I 


STANZAS    SUBJOINED,    &C.  99 

No.  These  were  vigorous  as  their  sires, 

Nor  Plague  nor  Famine  came  ; 
This  annual  tribute  Death  requires, 

And  never  waves  his  claim. 

Like  crowded  forest-trees  we  stand, 

And  some  are  maik'd  to  fall ; 
The  axe  will  smite  at  God's  command, 

And  soon  shall  smite  us  all. 

Green  as  the  Bay-tree,  ever  green 

With  its  new  foliage  on, 
The  Gay,  the  Thoughtless,  I  have  seen, 

I  pass- d.... and  they  were  gone. 

Read,  ye  that  run  !  the  solemn  truth 

With  which  I  charge  my  page  ; 
A  Worm  is  in  the  Bud  of  Youth, 

And  at  the  Root  of  Age. 

No  present  Health  can  Health  insure, 

Forget  an  hour  to  come  ; 
No  med'cine  though  it  often  cure, 

Can  always  baulk  the  tomb. 

And  Oh  !  that  humble  as  my  Lot, 

And  scorn'd  as  is  my  strain, 
These  truths,  though  known,  too  much  forgot, 

I  may  not   each  in  vain. 
I 


100  STANZAS    SUBJOINED    TO 

So  prays  your  Clerk  with  all  his  heart, 

And  ere  he  quits  the  pen, 
Begs  j/om  ihv  once  to  take  his  part, 

And  answer  all....  A  men  ! 

«€j*5*> 

1788. 

£htod  adest,  memento 
Componere  aquus  ;  cetera  Jluminis 
Ritu  feruntur :  Horace. 

Improve  the  present  Hour,  for  all  beside 
Is  a  mere  Feather  on  a  Torrent's  Tide. 

<:■£<!►:> 

COULD  I,  from  Heav'n  inspir'd,  as  sure  presage 
To  whom  the  rising-  Year  shall  prove  his  last ; 
As  I  can  number  in  my  punctual  Page, 
And  Item  down  the  Victims  of  the  past ; 

How  each  would  trembling  wait  the  mournful  Sheet, 
On  which  the  Press  might  stamp  him  next  to  die  ; 
And,  reading  here  his  Sentence,  how  replete 
With  anxious  meaning,  lleav'n-ward  turn  his  Eye  ! 

Time,  then,  would  seem  more  precious  than  the  Joys 
Iu  which  he  sports  away  Uie  Treasure  now ; 


A    BILL    OF    MORTALITY-  101 

And  Pray'r,  more  seasonable  than  the  Noise 
Of  Drunkards,  or  the  Music-drawing1  Bow. 

Then,  doubtless,  many  a  Trifler  on  the  Brink 
Of  this  World's  hazardous  and  headlong*  Shore, 
Forc'dto  a  Pause,  would  feel  it  good  to  think, 
Told  that  his  setting  Sun  must  rise  no  more. 

Ah  self-deeeiv'd  !  Could  I,  prophetic,  say, 
Who  next  is  fated,  and  who  next,  to  fall, 
The  Rest  might  then  seem  privileged  to  play  ; 
But,  naming  none,  the  Voice  now  speaks  to  all. 

Observe  the  dappled  Foresters,  how  light 
They  bound  and  airy  o'er  the  sunny  Glade.... 
One  falls.... the  Rest  wide  scatter'd  with  affright, 
Vanish  at  once  into  the  darkest  Shade. 

Had  we  their  Wisdom,  should  we  often  warn'd, 
Still  need  repeated  warnings,  and  at  last, 
A  thousand  awful  admonitions  scorn'd, 
Die  self-accus'd  of  life  all  run  to  waste  ? 

Sad  waste.1  for  which  no  after-thrift  atones  : 
The  grave  admits  no  cure  for  guilt  or  sin. 
Dew-drops  may  deck  the  turf  that  hides  the  bones, 
But  tears  of  godly  grief  ne'er  flow  within. 

Learn  then,  ye  living  !  by  the  mouths  be  taught 
Of  all  these  sepulchres,  instructors  true, 


102  STANZAS    SUBJOINED    TO 

That,  soon  or  late,  Death  also  is  your  lot, 
And  the  next  op'ning  grave  may  yawn  for  you. 


—Placidaq  ;  ibi  demum  morte  quicvit. 

Virg. 

There  calm,  at  length,  he  breath' d  his  soul  away. 
•>h:^» — 

"  OH  most  delightful  hour  by  man 

"  Experienced  here  below, 
"  The  hour  that  terminates  his  span, 

"  His  folly,  and  his  woe  ! 

w  Worlds  should  not  bribe  me  back  to  tread, 

"  Again  life's  dreary  waste, 
"  To  see  again  my  Day  o'erspread 

«  With  all  the  gloomy  Past. 

"  My  Home  henceforth  is  in  the  skies, 

"  Earth,  Seas,  and  Sun  adieu ! 
"  All  Heav'n  unfolded  to  my  eyes, 

iC  I  have  no  sight  for  you." 

So  spake  Aspasio,  firm  possess'd 
Of  Faith's  supporting  rod, 


A    BILL    OF    MORTALITY.  10S 

Then  brcath'd  his  soul  into  its  rest, 
The  bosom  of  his  God. 

He  was  a  man,  among  tlic  few, 

Sincere  on  Virtue's  side  ; 
And  all  his  strength  from  Scripture  drew, 

To  hourly  use  apply'd. 

That  rule  he  priz'd,  by  what  he  fear'd, 

He  hated,  hop'd,  and  lov'd  ; 
Nor  ever  frown'd,  or  sad  appear'd, 

I>ut  when  his  heart  had  rov'd. 

For  he  was  frail  as  thou  or  I, 

And  evil  felt  within  ; 
Eut  when  he  felt  it,  heav'd  a  sigh, 

And  loath'd  the  thought  of  Sin. 

Such  liv'd  Aspasio  ;  and,  at  last, 

Call'd  up  from  Earth  to  Heav'n, 
The  g'ulph  of  Death  triumphant  pass'd, 

By  gales  of  blessing"  driv'n. 

His  joys  be  wine,  each  Reader  cries, 

When  my  last  hour  arrives  ! 
They  shall  be  yours,  my  Verse  repl 

Such  o.\LY  be  your  lives. 


I 


104  STANZAS    SUBJOINED    TO 

1790. 

Ne  commoiientem  recta  sperne. 

BUCIIANNAN. 

Despise  not  my  good  counsel. 

<:*:*:> 

HE  who  sits  from  day  to  day, 
Where  the  prison'd  lark  is  hung", 

Heedless  of  his  loudest  lay, 

Hardly  knows  that  he  has  sung". 

Where  the  watchman  in  his  round 

Nightly  lifts  his  voice  on  high, 
None,  accustom'dto  the  sound, 

Wakes  the  sooner  for  his  cry. 

So  your  Verse-man  I,  and  Clerk, 

Yearly  in  my  song  proclaim 
Death  at  hand... yourselves  his  mark... 

And  the  foe's  unerring  aim. 

Duly  at  my  time  I  come, 

Publishing  to  all  aloud... 
Soon  the  grave  must  be  your  home, 

And  your  only  suit,  a  shroud. 

But  the  monitory  strain, 
Oft  repeated  in  your  I 


A  BILL   OF   MORTALITY.  105 

Seem9  to  sound  too  much  in  vain, 
Wins  no  notice,  wakes  no  feari, 

Can  a  truth,  by  all  confess'd, 

Of  such  magnitude  and  weight, 
Grow,  by  being*  oft  compress'd, 

Trivial  as  a  parrot's  prate  ? 

Pleasure's  call  attention  wins, 

Hear  it  often  as  we  may  ; 
New  as  ever  seem  our  sins, 

Though  committed  ev'ry  day. 

Death  and  Judgment,  Heav'n  and  Hell... 

These  alone,  so  often  heard, 
No  more  move  us  than  the  bell, 

When  some  stranger  is  interr'd. 

Oh  then,  ere  the  turf  or  tomb 

Cover  us  from  ev'ry  eye, 
Spirit  of  instruction,  come, 

Make  us  learn  that  we  must  die  ! 


106  STANZAS    SUBJOINED    T« 

1792. 

Felix,  qui  potuit  rerum  cognoscere  causas, 
f$uiq:  meiuc  omnes  et  inexorabikfatum 
Subjecit  pedibus,  ttrepitwmq  ;  Adierontis  avarif 

Happy  the  mortal,  who  bus  trac'd  effects 

To  their  first  cause,  east  fear  beneath  his  feet 

And  Death,  and  roaring"  Hell's  voracious  fires  ! 

<:*:*:> 

THANKLESS  for  favors  from  on  high, 

Man  thinks  he  fades  too  soon  ; 
Tho'  'tis  his  privilege  to  die 

Would  he  improve  the  boon. 

But  lie  not  wise  enough  to  scan 
His  best  concerns  aright, 

Wo  .  life's  little  span 

To  ages,  if  he  might. 

To  ages  in  a  wprl 

To  ages  where  I 
Gall'd  by  affliction's  \w;\y  chain, 

And  hopeless  of  repose. 

Strange  fondness  ')?\hc  human  heart, 

EnamourM  of  its  harm  ! 
Stnu  uch  smart, 

And  stiii  has  pow'r  to  charm. 


A   BILL   OF    MORTALITY.  107 

Whence  has  the  world  her  magic  pow'r  ? 

Why  deem  we  death  a  foe  ? 
Recoil  from  weary  life's  best  hour, 

And  covet  longer  woe  ? 

The  cause  is  Conscience... Conscience  oft 

Her  tale  of  guilt  renews  ; 
Her  voice  is  terrible,  though  soft, 

And  dread  of  death  ensues. 

Then  anxious  to  be  longer  spar'd, 

Man  mourns  his  fleeting  breath  ; 
All  evils  then  seem  light,  compar'd 

With  the  approach  of  Death. 

'Tis  Judgment  shakes  him  ;  there's  the  fear 

That  prompts  the  wish  to  stay  : 
He  has  incurr'd  a  long  arrear, 

And  must  despair  to  pay. 

Pay  /...follow  Christ,  and  all  is  paid  ; 

His  death  your  peace  insures  ; 
Think  on  the  Grave  where  he  was  laid, 

And  calm  descend  to  yours. 


103  STANZAS    SUBJOINED    TO 

1793. 

De  sacris  autem  Invc  tit  mia  ser.tentia,  vt  concervt -ntur . 
Cicero   de  legibus. 

But  let  us  all  concur  in  this  sentiment,   that  things 
sacred  be  inviolate. 

— <:^'4*:> — 

HE  lives  who  lives  to  God,  alone  ; 

And  all  arc  dead  beside  ; 
For  oilier  source  than  God,  is  none 

Whence  life  can  be  supplied. 

To  live  to  God,  is  to  requite 

His  love  as  best  we  may ; 
To  make  his  precepts  our  delight, 

His  promises  our  stay. 

But  l'fe,  within  a  narrow  ring 

Of  giddy  joys  compris'd, 
Is  falsely  nam'd,  and  no  such  thing, 

But  rather  death  disguis'd. 

Can  life  in  them  deserve  the  name, 

Who  only  live,  to  pr 
For  what  poor  to)  j,  they  can  disclaim 

An  endless  life  above  ? 


A    BILL    OF    MORTALITY.  109 

Who,  much  diseas'd,  yet  nothing"  feel ; 

Much  menae'd,  nothing-  dread  ; 
Have  wounds,  which  only  God  can  heal, 

Yet  never  ask  his  aid  ! 

Who  deem  his  house  an  useless  place  ; 

Faith,  want  of  common  sense  ; 
And  ardour  in  the  Christian  race, 

A  hypocrite's  pretence  ! 

Who  trample  Order  ;  and  the  day 

Which  God  asserts  his  own, 
Dishonour  with  unhallow'd  play, 

And  worship  Chance  alone  ! 

If  scorn  of  God's  commands,  impress'd 

On  word  and  deed,  imply 
The  better  part  of  man,  unbless'd 

With  Life  that  cannot  die  ; 

Such  want  it ;... and  that  Want,  uncur'd 

Till  man  resign  his  breath, 
Speaks  him  a    Criminal,  assur'd 

Of  everlasting  death. 

Sad  period  to  a  pleasant  course  ! 

Yet  so  will  God  repay 
Sabbaths  profan'd  without  remors*, 

And  Mercy  cast  away. 


110 

AN  EPITAPH 

ON 

MR.  T.  A.  HAMILTON, 

IN    THE    CHURCHYARD    OF    NEWPORT-r AGNEL. 

— <:4^>  — 

PAUSE  here,  and  think.     A  monitory  Rhime 
Demands  one  moment  of  thy  fleeting1  time. 

Consult  Life's  silent  clock,  thy  bounding  vein  ; 
Seems  it  to  say...."  Health,  here,  has  long  to  reign  ,J 
Hast  thou  the  vigour  of  thy  youth  ?....an  eye 
That  beams  delight  ?....a  heart  untaught  to  sigh  ? 
Yet  fear.     Youth,  ofttimes  healthful,  and  at  ease, 
Anticipates  a  day  it  never  sees  ; 
And  many  a  tomb,  like  Hamilton's,  aloud 
Exclaims,  "  Prepare  thee  for  an  early  shroud." 


FINIS. 


k> 


mm 


